


Karl - The Fugitive or I am become Death

by amerasu1013 (amerasu_1013)



Series: Dark Desires - Mirror!Pinto AU [8]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Bondage, Dom/sub, M/M, Mirror Universe, Rough Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-06
Updated: 2010-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-12 11:12:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amerasu_1013/pseuds/amerasu1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris gets a new assignment: hunting down a man named Karl Urban. He is hesitant to accept it, because Karl is an important part of Chris' own past. What will happen when Karl realizes someone is after him? And what when Zach finds out Chris and Karl were lovers once? Plus, there is someone who really wants Karl dead - will Chris follow this order?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part 8 of my Mirror!Pinto Series, which is a WIP.  
> Please heed the series warnings.
> 
> Disclaimer: I neither own nor know Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto, this is purely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be an insult or an allusion to their private life.
> 
> Betaed by wolfhaton, thanks bb! All remaining mistakes are mine, especially since English is not my native tongue.  
> Crossposted at my own LJ here http://amerasu1013.livejournal.com/
> 
> Title from ~~Heroes season 3 episode 4~~ J.R. Oppenheimer after a quote from the Hindu text "Gita"

_Then_

A lone figure stands at the window. The warehouse is empty, deserted and dark, covered in dirt and debris. Rats are scuttling around, searching for food, but the man ignores the small sounds they make. He draws his black jacket tighter around himself, trying to stay warm in the icy winds blowing through the broken glass of the windows. His free hand clutches something, holds it close to a face shadowed by the hood of a jacket. Whatever he’s holding is small and glitters golden in the light of the setting sun. A locket.

The man stares down at the locket, stares at the two pictures inside. One of them shows a woman’s face, pretty and smiling, her youth and beauty forever captured and preserved inside the photograph. The other shows two children, both boys, laughing with their arms around each other. A family, a memory, a remembrance of old, long lost days. The man stares down at the pictures, brings them closer to his face, a face that would be handsome if it were not twisted in grief. The man weeps.

Something outside draws the man’s attention. He closes the locket, hides it back inside his shirt and reaches for the binoculars on the windowsill.

The window faces a narrow backstreet, the back entrance of a club. This particular club is well-known within police circles, infamous for its clientele. A hotspot for drug dealers, hitman, bank robbers, the mafia – a meeting place for all those who want to hide from Lady Justice. Run by a man who has murdered dozens, has maimed and mutilated, has tortured and killed anyone who dared to oppose him.

Vinnie de Luca.

A man who killed a cop’s family 6 months ago, broke into their house and murdered them in cold blood. Killed them because that cop did not want to let himself be bought, did not stop investigating, would not want to be intimidated like every single one of his colleagues. One cop who wasn’t scared by de Luca, ignored the bribes and threats and lost his family for it. Lost them because of the man currently exiting the club’s back door, the man shaking hands with the manager, slapping some hooker’s ass and exchanging greetings with his body guards.

The man by the window drops the binoculars and takes up a gun. It’s some type of assault rifle, it looks big and evil, sleekly elegant and deadly. It looks like its purpose. The man peers through the rifle scope, watches Vinnie and his friends, his hitmen, his colleagues, his family’s murderers. One hand clenches briefly in the shirt above the locket.

Then Karl Urban, former cop, widower and soon-to-be mass murderer, starts firing.

 

 _Now_

Chris scrambles for the phone, trying to clear his sleep-heavy head. Next to him Zach moves and scrunches his nose, but doesn’t wake up. Chris tucks the blanket around him and flips the phone open. He tries to keep his voice down, annoyed at being woken and not wanting to disturb his lover.

“What?”

“It’s Bruce.”

“What the fuck do you want at 6 in the morning?”

“I got a job for you.”

“Jesus. And you couldn’t wait for like 4 more hours?”

“I need an answer now, Chris.”

“Fuck. Okay. What is it?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Just tell me, Bruce.”

“You need to make someone disappear.”

“Fine. So?”

“The client is Vinnie de Luca.”

“Fuck no. You know I don’t do jobs for de Luca, no fucking way.”

“The target is Karl Urban.”

Chris is silent. He hears Bruce calling his name through the phone, he hears Zach’s soft breathing. Chris closes his eyes briefly. He hasn’t heard that name in a very long time.

“Chris? You still there? Will you take the job?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m here.” Chris has to clear his throat. Karl. Fuck. He glances quickly at Zach, who’s still sound asleep, good, and lowers his voice some more.

“I’ll take it, Bruce. Send me the details later, okay? Just… tell Vinnie I’ll do it.”

He hangs up without another word and worries his lower lip between his teeth. Zach is moving now, inching closer towards Chris in his sleep, searching for his body’s warmth. Chris quickly settles next to him and tugs him close. Zach snuggles into his chest and mumbles sleepily before he starts breathing deeply again. Chris lies on his back, one arm under his head, the other wrapped around his lover’s shoulder.

Karl Urban. Fuck. Chris remembers him well.

 

 _Then_

Chris curses himself, curses his clumsiness, his inattention, his inexperience, everything that lead to this. And he curses Timmy Mahoney, that stupid prick, who’s probably right now sitting somewhere nice and warm and laughing his ass off. Fucker. Chris’ first job as a bounty hunter, and not only did he manage to let his target escape, but he also got caught by the cops. Fuck. Bruce is going to _kill_ him.

He lets his head thump against the top of the police car and rolls his eyes in frustration. The handcuffs are digging uncomfortably into his wrists and his arms hurt in their twisted position behind his back. Worst day ever.

He eyes the two cops. The older one, the fat one, is speaking into his radio, checking Chris’ record. He winces and hopes Bruce is as good as he said at wiping Chris’ slate clean, or else Chris will spend a nice long time in jail. The other cop is watching him curiously. Chris blushes and looks away.

Earlier the younger cop searched him for weapons. Chris was still wheezing from being tackled against the wall, didn’t even notice the handcuffs until it was too late. He was shoved over the hood of the car, dizzy, and the cop searched him. His body had been close to Chris, uncomfortably close, warm and hard, his big hands roamed Chris back, his sides, dipped into his pocket. They were firm and sure, handled him without hesitation, and Chris felt warmth spread from the places they touched. He’d blushed and wriggled a bit when they touched his ass and between his legs. Fuck.

Chris turns his head towards the younger cop again. He’s still watching him. Chris jerks his face away and feels his cheeks grow even hotter. The cop has amazing hazel eyes, and their intense gaze is making him uncomfortable. Chris worries his lip between his teeth and doesn’t notice the cop walked closer until the guy starts talking.

“Chris, right?”

“Huh?”

“Your name.”

“Um. Yes.”

“Well, Chris, I’m Officer Urban.”

Chris grunts in reply. Officer Urban has very pretty lips. And a very nice smile. Woah. Don’t think about that. Think about Bruce’s angry face, think about that fucker Mahoney.

“Tell me, Chris, what brings a nice young boy like you to this part of the city?”

What? Urban is eyeing him with a friendly smile, Chris looks at him in confusion. Then it hits him. He doesn’t look like a bounty hunter (at least not what Chris imagines one would look like, with leather maybe and a sombrero), he looks… harmless. Jeans, soft with age, a white undershirt and a plaid shirt over that. Add to that Chris’ fake glasses and he looks normal, like a student maybe. Certainly not like a would-be bounty hunter. Apparently his carefully chosen costume works, at least on that cop. It certainly didn’t fool Mahoney, that prick. Chris thinks as fast as he can. Maybe, just maybe…

“Um. I. I just… there is this club, and I…”

Urban laughs. It’s a good laugh, friendly and full of humor, warm and deep. A nice laugh. Chris fakes a tentative smile. “I just… wanted to maybe, you know, check it out?”

“Oh, I see, I see. You saw an ad for lap dances and wanted to have a look at the girls, right?”

Chris chuckles bashfully, proud of his own acting skills. “Yeah, something like that. Stupid idea, I know. … Sorry.”

“Don’t worry, Chris! Stupid idea, yeah, but it’s not like you actually did anything wrong.” Urban smiles at him and walks closer. He unlocks the handcuffs and Chris straightens. He shuffles on his feet and looks at the cop through his lashes. Oh yeah, this will work.

“Does that mean I can, like, go?”

“Yeah, you can. He’s clear, right, Caruso?” he looks over to his partner briefly and smiles when the other cop nods. “No harm, no foul, right? You can go, Chris.”

Chris likes the way Urban says his name. His accent – Chris can’t place it, maybe Australian? – makes it sound warm, exotic. He scrambles to catch his license when Caruso throws it at him. Urban is still smiling. Chris mumbles a fake-embarrassed “Thanks” and pockets his wallet. This is going perfectly.

“Just don’t let me catch you in these parts again, okay Chris? I’d really hate to meet you again under… similar circumstances.”

Chris chuckles a bit and tries to suppress a shiver when Urban rests a big hand on his shoulder. It’s heavy and warm and the touch seems to send sparks through his entire body. He thanks the cop again, murmurs a goodbye and gets another sunny smile in return.

Then he walks off, determined to find Mahoney. He does, in the end, he finds him, brings him back to his client, collects his first bounty and accepts Bruce’s praise. His future looks bright. And still the cop’s face is ghosting through his mind.

He sees Officer Urban again, soon after. The circumstances are very different, and in a way not at all, and Karl smiles at him when they meet.

 

 _Now_

Zach stirring shakes Chris from his memories. He watches his lover stretch and yawn and manages a smile when Zach blinks at him. His lover smiles back, soft and lazy. Chris runs a hand through Zach’s sleep-mussed hair. For a moment he sees hazel eyes, before the memory floats away and he gazes into his lover’s dark ones.

“Was tha’ on the phone?” Zach still sounds sleepy, and Chris grins when he yawns and scrunches his nose.

“Just Bruce, about a job.”

“Y’take it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. Haven’t had a job for a while now, y’ve been all cranky an’ annoyed. Will be good for you.”

Zach’s nosing his chest now, stretching lazily. Chris intercepts a curios hand trailing towards his dick and rolls Zach onto his back. He stretches above him and Zach settles with a pleased sigh. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Chris rolls his hips against Zach’s morning wood. His lover moans and shifts underneath him. Chris remembers another, different morning, languorous smiles and laughter. He bends down and kisses Zach. It’s lazy, at first, slow and soft, but it soon becomes heated. They kiss, deeply, tongues dueling for dominance, Zach wraps long arms and legs around Chris and presses close. He thinks about strong hands, muscled arms and a firm back and shudders.

Chris pulls back, Zach tries to follow him, mouth moving wetly, but Chris shoves him back down. He nudges him over to his front, Zach complies with a breathy chuckle. Chris’ eyes roam his lover’s pale back and remembers a broader, more muscular one, tanned, with a lot of freckles. Zach rubs his ass against Chris’ erection and moans. He bites at Zach’s neck, feels his lover shiver beneath him. He feels ghost hands travel along his own hips, remembers blunt fingers against his hole. Chris shakes his head angrily and closes his teeth over soft skin. Zach doesn’t notice, shudders and twists, presses back eagerly. Chris tries to hold him still, clenches his hands on narrow hips and thrusts against the body below, but Zach is still moving.

Chris pulls back, fumbles for the cuffs hanging from their headboard. He ignores Zach’s questioning gaze, doesn’t say a word and fastens the padded leather around Zach’s wrists. His lover grins in anticipation when Chris moves towards the ankle restraints and moans when he cuffs them, too. Chris pauses and surveys Zach, spread across their bed, arms bound tight above his head and legs stretched wide. He remembers himself, on his back, another man moving above him. Chris snarls, spits into his hand and covers his dick roughly before pounces on Zach.

Zach’s yells when Chris rams into him, shoves in deep and sets a punishing pace. He didn’t bother to use lube, Zach’s hole might still hold some slickness from yesterday, but it’s barely enough. Chris fucks him hard, hard and fast, trying to ignore his memories or a different, more gentle love-making, images of two sweaty golden bodies moving against each other. Zach arches his back and wails when Chris hits his prostate, Chris clenches his hands over Zach’s hips, pulls him back to meet every thrust. Soon, Zach’s channel is slick with precome and probably blood, too; Chris’ dick moves more easily and he ups the pace. Zach is gasping with every thrust now, broken little moans escaping his mouth, Chris fucks in even deeper and leaves hand-shaped bruises on Zach’s pale flesh.

Chris feels his climax approaching, takes a hand from Zach’s hip and shoves a finger into his hole alongside his dick. Zach screams and comes, channel clenching tightly around Chris dick before his body goes limp. Chris fucks him through it, jerks Zach’s unresisting form across the bed, and then he comes and sinks his teeth into Zach’s shoulder so he won’t scream the wrong name.

Zach doesn’t move when Chris undoes the restraints. He doesn’t move when Chris wipes semen, spit and blood from his crack or when he cleans the bite on his shoulder. He doesn’t resist when Chris rolls him onto his back and settles back into the bed. Zach is unconscious, and Chris lies next to him and broods.

Later, when Zach comes to, he moves closer to him with a wince. He settles back on Chris’ chest and yawns. “Wow. That was intense.”

Chris doesn’t answer and wraps an arm around Zach when he nudges him. Zach sighs happily and rubs his cheek over Chris’ nipple. “Not that I’m complaining! I came so hard I passed out for fuck’s sake. Damn, Chris, what brought that on?”

Chris presses a kiss to Zach’s forehead and shakes his head briefly. “Nothing. You.”

“Hmm. I love you.” Zach smiles contently and closes his eyes. He yawns and snuggles against Chris. Soon, he’s asleep, breathing steadily. And Chris thinks about Karl.

 

 _Continued in Chapter 2  
_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mirror!AU.  
> Please heed the series warnings.

_Now_

Chris is sitting at the dining table, hands clutched around his cup of coffee. Luckily, today isn’t one of the “Chris has to drink healthy herbal tea because Zach says it’s good for him” days because, after this morning’s phone call, he needs coffee. He takes a sip – sweet, sweet caffeine – and watches Zach prance around the kitchen in all his naked glory. The clearly visible tattoo on Zach’s lower back and his shameless nudity would normally make him hard in a second, but Chris isn’t really in the mood. Too many things on his mind.

“Hey Zach, do you know if John will be at the club today? I need to ask him something.”

Zach stops cutting the apples for their cereal for a moment and considers. “I don’t think so, Anton has no show tonight. Why? Is this about the assignment Bruce gave you?”

“Yeah, John might have some idea where I should start looking for – for the target.”

“I’ll give you his phone number later. Who’s the target? Cheating husband? Drug dealer? Misappropriating politician?”

Chris smiles at Zach’s excited curiosity. “Nah. Just a guy who killed a bunch of Vinnie de Luca’s goons.”

Zach cocks his head. “De Luca? I thought you said you didn’t want to work for him anymore since he fucked you over after the thing with the DaSilva boy.”

Chris doesn’t answer and stares into his cup. Fuck. He should have realized that Zach would remember de Luca. He was there after that whole DaSilva fiasco, patched him up and listened to his furious yelling. Maybe telling Zach _everything_ about his assignments wasn’t the best idea.

“Chris? Why did you take this job if you hate de Luca so much?”

“Fuck, Zach, I just did! Everyone makes exemptions once in a while, okay? The job is interesting, it’s a challenge, and we could well need the money if you want to continue buying all the fancy clothes you’re so fond of!”

“What the fuck, Chris? I was only asking, no need to get so defensive! What’s up with you today?” Zach stares at him, arms crossed, frown on his face.

Chris looks away, gut churning. Usually he tells Zach all about his assignments, but this time… he really doesn’t want to. “Just… leave it alone, okay?”

“Fine,” Zach huffs and turns back to the counter. “Don’t tell me. Jeez.”

Chris gets up with a sigh, walks over to Zach and wraps his arms around him. The other remains stiff for a moment, until Chris presses a kiss to his neck. Then he relaxes and leans back against him.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m just tired, I guess. Let’s not fight, okay?” For a moment a memory rises in Chris’ head, a similar scene, he wrapped around Karl who laughed and threatened him he’d tickle him to death if Chris caused his omelet to burn. He ruthlessly suppresses the image and concentrates on Zach’s skin against him.

Zach sighs and pats his arm briefly. “Okay, Chris, I’m sorry, too. Let’s forget about it.” He steps from Chris’ embrace and mock-glares at him. “Now sit down and eat your damn cereal.”

Chris grins and fakes a shudder of disgust. Zach swats his ass on the way back to the table and sets the bowl in front of him. Chris takes the spoon and digs in. Zach sits down at the opposite end of the table and starts eating his own cereal. Chris looks up briefly and sees Zach watching him with a thoughtful expression. Fuck. He really hoped Zach would just let it go. He manages a – as he hopes insouciant – smile and concentrates on his bowl. Really, it’s better when Zach doesn’t know.

 

 _Then_

The next time Chris saw Officer Urban again was roughly two months after their first encounter. He’d managed to catch Timmy Mahoney – of course – and had done some more jobs for Bruce, but he hasn’t quit his day-job yet. Up until now, his assignments had been easy jobs, beginner’s jobs, because Chris had still to make a name for himself, show potential clients what he could do. So, he still worked at the coffee shop. And this was where he met Urban again.

The cop walked up to the counter to place his order, blinking at Chris thoughtfully until a wide smile lit his whole face. Chris smiled back and felt his cheeks heat. If he’d thought Urban looked good at night, he was positively gorgeous in daylight, tanned and golden and radiant.

“Chris Pine, right? How have you been?”

Chris ducked his head and wiped some crumbs from the counter. “Hi Officer Urban. Uh, I’m good, thanks.”

“Please, Chris, call me Karl. It’s nice to meet you again! Though I’m glad to see you in a less… dubious environment.”

Chris melted a bit at the way Off… Karl said his name. The other’s accent did funny things to his stomach and he blushed some more, cursing himself for behaving so… bashfully. He tried to regain his footing – he wasn’t sixteen anymore, dammit – and managed a grin. “I’m not too sure about that, actually, our prices are _criminal_.”

Karl threw his head back and laughed, and Chris’ stomach tilted again. Damn.

“Oh, I like you Chris, I really do!”

Chris grinned at him, Karl smiled back, and after a while Chris realized neither of them was talking, they were just… staring at each other. He cleared his throat nervously and cursed the mesmerizing effect this man had on him. “So, um, what do you want from me?”

Fuck. He could have phrased that a lot better. Karl tilted his head and looked at him intently from hazel eyes. Chris started to fidget and with every second that the other was silent, his face heated more.

“I mean, uh… what kind of coffee would you like?”

Karl smiled, somewhat mysterious. “What I want from you right now is a large cup of regular coffee, black, no milk or sugar. And maybe one of those blueberry muffins.”

Then he gave Chris a last confusing look and walked over to a free table. Chris stood rooted to the spot for almost a minute, staring after him, until he jerked back to reality. Shit. Focus, Chris, focus. He worried his lower lip between his teeth as he prepared Karl’s coffee, throwing covet looks towards the table where the officer was now reading the newspaper. Could it be? Could it really be…? Or was he just imagining things?

Chris brought both coffee and muffin over and placed them on the table near Karl’s elbow with a mumbled “on the house”, before he fled behind the safety of the counter. Face beet-red he busied himself with wiping up non-existent coffee stains, smiling to himself. Yep, he really hadn’t imagined things. Karl had totally checked out his ass. Now, if only Chris could stop acting like a fourteen year old girl and actually _do_ something about it…

 

 _Now_

John does have a clue as to where Chris might find Karl. After all, the Yoshida family’s best killer needs to know about their enemies’ enemies, and de Luca and the Yoshida clan have been at war for over 5 years. There’s even rumor Takuyo Yoshida had sent Karl a shitload of money after he had killed de Luca’s nephew. John gives Chris the address of a club, the Jade Staff, where Karl apparently shows up from time to time. Chris appreciates the help and thanks John. Now he only has to find Karl. Before he can hang up, though, John starts speaking again. And Chris doesn’t like where this is going.

The problem is, John is smart. He knows about Karl, Karl’s past, and apparently about Karl’s and Chris’… thing, too. Chris grinds his teeth, glad the other can’t see his expression over the phone.

“Does Zach know about this assignment? About Urban?”

Chris curses silently. He’s glad Zach’s in the bathroom right now and can’t hear him. Fuck John. “No. And it’s not his business.”

“You sure about that? I mean…”

“Yes I’m sure. It’s not his business, and neither is it yours. So, thanks for the help and now drop it.”

“Just… be careful, okay? Zach would flip if he realized…”

Yeah, no shit. Which is exactly why Chris won’t tell Zach, so he won’t get mad. He’s only protecting Zach’s feelings. Really. If Chris tells himself that often enough, he might even believe it.

Chris thanks John again and hangs up on him before the other can say anything else. Fuck. Fucking John and his fucking perceptiveness. Fucking Karl, fucking Zach, fucking everything. He throws his phone away and curses.

And of course, this is the moment Zach walks in.

 

Chris straightens the comforter on the couch, picks up the remote control from where it has fallen on the floor, busies himself with tidying up the living room to avoid looking at Zach. He really hopes that Zach won’t –

“Was that John on the phone?”

– of course. How could he even _think_ for a moment that Zach wouldn’t ask? Chris’ nostrils flare, he only hums in agreement and bends to fluff the pillow.

“Did he tell you where you could find your target?”

Chris hums again and rolls his eyes. Jesus, why can’t Zach just let it go?

“Think maybe I could come this time?”

Fuck. No. No way in hell. “No, Zach, you can’t come. Some other time, but not on this one.”

“Why not? I won’t get in the way, I just wanna watch you…” Zach sounds like he’s offended. Chris can easily imagine him standing there, hair still wet from the shower, t-shirt clinging to his body, full lips pulled into a pout. It would be kind of adorable, if it wasn’t so goddamn annoying.

“Forget it.” Chris glares at the pillow. It won’t stay like he wants, it keeps falling over. He tries punching it into shape. It doesn’t really work.

“Why can’t I? Last time you promised me I could come with on your next assignment!” And God, Zach is definitely pouting now. Jesus _fuck_ , that man.

“I said forget it! You can’t help me, you’re not coming with me, that’s it!” Chris abandons his attempts with the pillow and pockets his phone. His fingers are clenching at his sides, temper boiling low in his gut. If Zach doesn’t stop his needling right now…

“Fuck you, Pine! Don’t treat me like a five-year old you can simply tell what to do! At least give me a good reason why not!”

Now Zach is angry. Great, Chris is angry, too. He whirls around and glares at Zach. “Because _I said so_! This isn’t a game, Zach, this is real life, not one of your little fantasies! People get killed, okay? The guys I’m after are dangerous, and your skinny little ass is no match for them! You’re staying here, where you won’t be hurt or get in the way, and _that’s final_!”

Chris whirls around, grabs the folder Bruce sent him earlier and storms out of the door, smashing it shut. It smacks against the frame and cuts off Zach’s enraged shrieking. Fucking Zach and his nagging, why can’t he just let it go? Fuck fuck _fuck_.

Chris gets into his car and races off. He’s fuming, he’s furious, angry at Zach and his fucking curiosity, angry at himself, angry at Karl and Bruce and John. His hands grip the steering wheel tightly while he drives towards his own apartment. He hasn’t been there in weeks, but now he’ll enjoy the solitude. Finally some calm and quiet, no constant nagging.

Zach’s shocked and hurt face appears in his mind, Chris shakes his head angrily to get rid of the image. He was _right_ , goddammit. And it’s better this way, better for Zach, for himself, for everyone. Zach doesn’t need to know about this. About Karl. Chris is only protecting Zach. It’s for _his_ sake.

Chris arrives at his apartment, turns the car off and grabs the file from where he tossed it onto the passenger seat. He pauses for a moment, eyes on the unsuspicious brown envelope. Chris’ carelessness and his wild driving have disturbed the contents of Bruce’s neatly sorted folder; papers are sticking out at the sides. Chris tucks them back in properly, then gets out of the car and fumbles his door open. He ignores the stale air of the apartment, finds some more coffee in his kitchen and a forgotten Mars bar. He eats it, trying to calm himself. Then Chris settles down on his couch and opens the file. Time to plan his approach.

Chris knows Karl’s face, remembers every freckle and laugh line, so he doesn’t notice that his target’s picture is missing from the file. This photograph is now lying on the living room floor of Zach’s house, back where it fell when Chris stormed out. Bare feet move closer to it, the person they are attached to seems to hesitate, then a curious hand picks the photo up.

 

 _Continued in Chapter 3_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mirror!AU.  
> Please heed the series warnings.  
> Oh, and due to the fact that a large part of this chapter consists of a flashback to "happier" times, this chapter is a lot more "fluffy" than the previous parts. But don't worry, blood and violence will reappear soon...

_Then_

Karl started coming to the coffee shop almost every morning, before his shift started. He’d walk in, give his order with a warm smile, sit down with a newspaper and watch him. Chris would bring him coffee and muffins and cookies, stay a bit to chat and walk back to the counter with a smile on his face. Gradually he became more relaxed in the cop’s presence, able to really talk and to flirt back. And Karl did flirt with him, complimented his shirt, watched his mouth when Chris talked, touched his arm briefly or clasped his hand for a moment in thanks for the coffee.

They talked about sports, about movies, politics, the merits of dogs versus cats, everything under the sun, really. Chris started looking forward to his mornings, to opening the shop and waiting for Karl, to pick out muffins he knew Karl would like, to flick through the newspaper quickly before the other arrived so he’d have more topics to talk about. When he discovered the cop liked chess he was delighted, and they spend many a morning with their heads bowed over a chess board, quietly playing and smirking at each other when they captured a piece.

Chris and Karl became comfortable with each other, compared and shared interests, swapped childhood stories and Chris was content. But, even after weeks had gone like that, still nothing “serious” had happened. No invitations to movies or dinner, no questions about being single, no – no kisses. It bugged Chris, he wanted Karl, and he knew the other wanted him, so why hadn’t the other _done_ something about it? This slow seduction with chess and coffee and talking was nice, really, but Chris wanted more.

He wanted kissing and touching and… everything else. He’d spent the last couple of months jerking off to images of Karl’s face, his lips and his eyes, his big hands and strong arms, and he wanted, God, he wanted. It scared him a bit, his lust and desire for the other man, he’d had a couple of handjobs from guys before, even went down on a classmate one time, but that was about it. And now… memories of Karl’s hands on his shoulder haunted his dreams, the phantom touch of fingers against his neck, Karl’s eyes on his ass when he walked away. When he’d experimented with his own fingers _down_ _there_ , imagining Karl’s blunt fingers instead, it had certainly felt good, but it wasn’t enough. Chris wanted Karl, wanted him badly, wanted it all. But Karl didn’t try _anything_. It was frustrating.

Hm. Maybe Chris should seduce him, instead?

A couple of days later, when Karl had just sat down with his newspaper and no other customer was in the shop, Chris surreptitiously flipped the sign from “Open” to “Closed” and locked the door. Then he went to the backroom under the pretense of having to fetch something. He smiled to himself, knowing Karl was watching him walk away and left the door open. He shuffled a few boxes to make noise and then called for the cop.

“Um, Karl? Would you mind coming back here for a moment? I need some help with a box…” Chris heard the chair scraping over the floor and grinned – his plan was going perfectly so far. Trust the gentleman cop to help a man in need… and in need he was, oh yeah.

Chris didn’t turn around when Karl walked up behind him, instead he bend forward and leant across a bag of coffee beans, pretending to reach for a heavy box behind it. He’d purposely worn his tightest jeans today, especially for this occasion, and he knew they clung to his ass like a second skin, showing off his assets, so to speak.

“Thanks man, I really appreciate it, the stupid thing is too heavy for me alone…” Chris smirked to himself when he heard Karl draw a sharp breath and bent forwards even more, lifting his arms towards the box, causing his shirt to ride up a bit. He turned his head around and looked at Karl, the other was flushed and breathing hard, eyes glued to Chris’ ass. He wriggled his hips and smiled invitingly.

“Give me a hand? I need you…”

That did it. Karl groaned loudly, and suddenly Chris found himself shoved forward, down over the bag, large hands on his hips and a hard, warm body curved along his back. Chris moaned and moved under Karl, the other gasped as Chris’ ass rubbed against his erection, he ground forward, pressing Chris further into the bag, thrust his hips twice, hot breath dancing against his neck.

Then Karl stepped back, yanked him around, put big hands under his ass, lifted him up and dumped him to sit on the bag. Chris gasped at this display of strength, wrapped his legs around Karl’s hips and pulled him closer. The other took Chris’ chin in one hand and clamped the other around his neck. Chris leaned into the touch, grinned and winked at Karl. “Finally, I thought you’d never…”

“Oh Jesus, you fucken little tease…” Then he pressed his lips to Chris, forced his mouth open and roughly shoved his tongue inside. Chris moaned around Karl’s invading tongue, held on while the cop plundered his mouth, licked into every corner, bit at his lips and seemed to suck the very air from his lungs. He tried to reciprocate but it was futile, Karl’s strong tongue fucked his mouth, both his hands kneading his ass now, hard chest pressing him backwards, and Chris could only hang on and let himself be ravished.

Karl moved a hand between their bodies, to where their groins were rubbing against each other, he fumbled their zippers open and Chris squeaked when a warm hand wrapped around his cock. Karl set a fast pace, stroking him roughly, taking both their dicks into one hand, fingers twisting and pressing and tightening, Chris’ eyes rolled back and he groaned. Karl jerked them off quick and dirty, precome slicking the way, sucked on Chris’ neck and licked at the mark he’d created. Chris’ head was lolling weakly, arms and legs clinging to Karl, he thrust into the other’s fist, felt his cock sliding against the other’s, felt Karl come with a growl, wetness spurting against his stomach and soaking his jeans and shuddered.

Karl pulled back, twisted out of Chris’ clinging arms. His desperate moan turned into a scream when the cop sank to his knees and swallowed him whole. Karl sucked him vigorously, cheeks hollowing, Chris stared down, mesmerized by the sight of his cock sliding between bruised lips. Karl rubbed a finger over his perineum, worked it further back, teasing his hole, Chris shook and moaned, and came with a shout when Karl’s fingertip breached his entrance.

Afterwards, having used Chris’ apron to clean up a bit, they sat leaning against each other and shared lazy kisses. Chris smiled at Karl and was rewarded with a blinding grin. Then Karl spoke: “This was great, sweetheart. You’re so pretty when you come.”

Chris ducked his head and blushed. He wasn’t sure whether it was because of the compliment or the ‘sweetheart’. Nobody had ever called him that before. “Um. Thanks. You were pretty hot, too.”

Karl laughed his sunny, warm laugh and put an arm around his shoulders. “So, I guess you didn’t actually need my help with that box and it was all a shameless attempt to seduce me? Well played, my boy. Well played.”

Chris grumbled a “shut up” and hit Karl’s arm, blushing even more. The other only snickered and pulled him closer. “Not that I mind, really. I just wasn’t sure if… I wasn’t sure if you wanted me.”

Chris pulled back in shock. “What the hell? Seriously? I’ve been thinking of you for months while… um.”

Karl’s eyes widened. Oh God, no. Chris’ cheeks were positively burning now and he bit his lips. “I mean I’ve been thinking about you a lot…”

“Oh, I know what you meant, sweetheart, I know exactly what you meant.” Karl’s voice was a purr and he pulled Chris closer still. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot, too, my boy, quite a lot. In the shower, on my bed, and even in the locker room at the station once.”

Chris squirmed ducked his head again. Jesus, this man. Just when he’d thought he’d gotten comfortable around Karl, the other managed to make him all flustered again. And his cock seemed to be taking a renewed interest, dammit.

Karl took mercy on him and let him go with a quick peck on the nose. “Well, as nice as that was, I should get going, shift’s about to start and I don’t wanna be late.”

Chris tried to hide his disappointment. He’d hoped… he’d hoped for something a bit different, to be honest. “Oh, okay. Um, thanks, for, for everything and I guess I’ll see you around…”

Karl smiled at him, gentle and warm. “You free tonight? I’ll cook. We could stay in, sit on the couch, maybe rent a movie...”

Chris felt a grin split his face. “Yeah, yeah, that would be great. It’s, um, it’s a date.”

Karl gave him a hand up and kissed him again before leaving. Chris leant back against the wall and watched him go. Butterflies were dancing in his stomach, he felt giddy and excited and he couldn’t stop smiling. _It’s a date_.

 

 _Now_

Zach is choosing his attire carefully. He has a plan, after all, and his clothes are an important part of it. He flips through various pants until he finds the pair he has bought only a week ago. It’s leather, calfskin, soft and warm to the touch. Black, with silver rivets and leather lacing up the sides. He’s never worn these pants before, Chris has never seen them, and they will be perfect for tonight. Zach foregoes underwear and shimmies into them. Oh, his ass looks _great_ in them. As for the shirt - maybe his red silk one? Buttoned up just enough to show a hint of chest hair, soft fabric sliding caressingly over his skin and clinging to his pierced nipples. Yes, that works well. Add to that his silver bracelets and the high black boots – gorgeous, if he may say so himself.

Zach relocates to the bathroom and starts styling his hair. Just a little product, only enough to look like he just rolled out of bed. And maybe a little eyeliner?

Zach had known that trying to get information out of John directly would be impossible, but Anton was just wonderfully helpful when Zach called him earlier. Unsuspecting, eager to assist, willingly recounting what John had said to Chris. Zach knows now that the man in the photograph is named Karl Urban, he knows that he killed a lot of de Luca’s people, and more importantly, he knows where to find him. The Jade Staff.

And Zach knows that apparently Chris and Karl knew each other before. Have a history, so to speak. He even googled the guy’s name, apparently he’s an ex-cop who once was the reason Chris got arrested. Got him locked up for six months, even, until Bruce made the case disappear from what Zach can tell. Seems like the cop fucked Chris over and his lover is out for a little revenge.

But why didn’t Chris tell Zach about Karl, about their past? Why did he keep silent? Just yelled at him and told him to stop nagging. It hurt, it still hurts, knowing that Chris didn’t want him to know, kept this secret, didn’t think he was… They are in a relationship, for fuck’s sake, of course he deserves to know! Zach tells Chris everything, he even told him about Winters, about all the things that fucker had done to him, and he told him about his other issues, and Chris… Chris didn’t trust him. Didn’t say a word, didn’t confide in him, even when Zach asked about Chris’ assignment, his lover only told him to fuck off. But Zach has found out, he knows it now, and when he next sees Chris again, he’ll make him tell him everything.

But first he has to catch Urban. Hunt him down, play bait, trap him and catch him. Zach examines his reflection and nods, satisfied. He looks hot, he looks dangerous, he looks irresistible. Urban doesn’t stand a chance. Zach grabs his leather jacket and his keys, takes a last look at the photograph, memorizing his target’s face and picks up the tazer.

Chris thinks he’s weak, that he can’t take care of himself. Chris thinks he’s no match against a hardened criminal, that he can’t stand his ground in a fight. Chris is wrong, Chris doesn’t know shit. There are many ways to fight, many ways to win, and Zach has fought for himself, for his life and his body for a long time before Chris came around. He isn’t a spoilt little brat who lets others do his fighting, he isn’t some whore who hides behind her pimp or a kept boy who lets his sugar daddy protect him. And now he’s gonna show Urban, he’s gonna show Chris exactly how he can “take care” of himself. Zach smiles to himself, slow and dangerous, and closes the door.

 

 _Continued in chapter 4  
_

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mirror!AU.  
> Please heed the series warnings.  
> Additional chapter note: Karl's POV is written in non-U.S. spelling for a reason. Still, my "Kiwi"-English is a bit rusty, so if anyone notices spelling mistakes or "wrong" words, please tell me.

_Zach_

As Zach comes up to the Jade Staff’s entrance he can hear the music sounding from inside. He grins in anticipation, he hasn’t been here in years, and damn, he’s missed that club. The music is loud and good, the beat and the deep bass make his heart beat faster and his blood sing. Zach saunters up to the entrance, past the many people standing in line. He ignores their jealous looks when the bouncer opens the VIP rope for him – good to know they still remember him here. Zach rewards the bouncer who let him in with a quick peck to the lips and smirks when he gets a swat on the ass in return.

Inside the music is even louder, it’s stiflingly hot and damp from people’s perspiration. Sweaty bodies in various states of undress are grinding against each other on the packed dance floor, twisting and rubbing, and in the shadowed booths on the wall two or more people move together in a slightly different dance. Zach looks around and smiles. He likes this club. Maybe he should take Chris here someday… Zach sobers. Thinking about Chris reminds him of why he’s here. His lover’s assignment, the argument, Urban… Zach straightens and nods to himself determinedly. He’s not here for fun tonight, he’s here for a reason. He has to catch Urban, has to catch him alone, show Chris and everybody what he’s capable of. Show Chris he’s wrong.

Zach starts to circle the room, stays in the semi-darkness near the wall. He weaves around and in between the club’s guests, either avoiding or ignoring the guys that touch him, doesn’t react to hands groping his ass or groin, ignores invitations for drinks, dancing and everything else. Not today, not when Chris isn’t here to watch and get jealous. Not today when he has a _job_ to do.

Where is Urban?

 

 _Chris_

Chris is still sitting alone in his cold apartment, on the couch with a dusty smelling blanket around his shoulders. There isn’t really much that can be planned for catching Karl, and he’s been finished with that for over an hour. Still, he sitting here, the contents of the file spread around him, coffee cup in one hand and the other supporting his head. He could have been at the club by now, but he isn’t. He’s not ready.

Chris looks down at the photo album in his lap. It’s been sitting in his drawer for years, hidden underneath his socks. Earlier, when he was waiting for his coffee, he took it out. He can barely remember when he last opened it. A long time ago. Before Zach.

He drowns the dregs of his coffee, grimacing at the cold bitterness of the liquid and puts the cup away. The plan, right. Go to the club, look for Karl, knock him out with one of his syringes, then… he still has to think about what’s gonna happen after he catches Karl. Chris sighs and glances at his clock. The Jade Staff has to be packed by now. If Karl goes there today, he’ll likely appear soon, when there’s a big crowd he can blend into. Chris should probably leave soon.

He opens the photo album instead.

Pictures of him and Karl, smiling and happy. Snapshots from when Chris moved in with Karl, of Karl carrying boxes, of Chris re-arranging his books that Karl didn’t sort alphabetically. Pics from a police function they both went to, Karl looking handsome and regal in his dress uniform. A photo from Chris in bed, one early morning, looking tousled and grumpy, with Karl’s hand in a corner of the picture, still holding a corner of the blanket he just pulled away.

A picture of them both, smiling into the camera, and Chris remembers that day, at the park, the picnic they had there on their fourth date, before… before Karl took him home, laid him down on his bed, and made love to him for the first time. Was gentle and loving, caressed him all over, opened him up slowly and made him fly. And afterwards, they cuddled and kissed, and Karl said he loved him. Chris smiles at the memory. And then, a picture of them both, with their arms around each other. Chris grins into the camera, hand shielding his eyes from the sun, Karl looks at him with a soft smile on his face.

After this picture the remaining pages are blank. The day after this picture was taken Karl… Karl found out what Chris does for a living. The worst day in Chris’ life, the day he lost everything.

Blank pages. A fitting metaphor.

Chris closes the photo album. He gets up, cleans his cup away, puts all the papers back into the file and folds his blanket. He picks up his keys and opens the door.

He has a job to do.

 

 _Karl_

The Jade Staff is packed. Karl smiles in anticipation and stands at the door for a moment, surveying the room. So many people – so many choices. Tall, small, slender, plump, muscular, blondes, brunettes, redheads… name it, the Jade’s got it. Karl’s smile widens into a grin. He got here for a bit of fun, and the selection looks very promising. A pretty young thing smiles invitingly and Karl winks back. He eyes the boy and nods appreciatively. Not bad, not bad at all. Maybe later, first he wants a drink.

Karl moves towards the bar and fends off a few more advances. He gets a whiskey and ignores the stares of two nearby twinks who inch closer and eye him hopefully. They are pretty enough, but they look so young and… fragile. Not really what Karl is in the mood for tonight, he wants it quick and dirty, he wants someone who likes it rough and doesn’t care about bruises or marks. Someone who can grab back, can take it, can take Karl. And those two really don’t look like they could.

Someone shoves him and Karl stumbles a little, almost spilling his drink. He turns towards his neighbour with a scowl on his face – can’t the guy look where he’s going?! – and stops. He’s staring at a leather clad arse. Its owner is almost lying on the bar as he shows the barkeeper exactly which whiskey he wants, and his arse is almost in Karl’s face. It’s a nice arse.

Now the guy it belongs to straightens and stands on his feet again. Karl watches him pay for his whiskey and takes a sip of his own. His gaze roams the dark red silk shirt, the black leather pants. Slender waist, strong arms and legs, nicely built, not too much, not too little. And a really nice arse, even better in profile. Karl’s neighbour turns towards the dance floor and Karl can see his face now. Hmm, pretty. This evening just got a lot more interesting. And are those nipple piercings? _Very_ interesting.

Karl takes another sip and eyes his neighbour. The other notices his look, lifts a prominent eyebrow at him, then looks away again with a bored expression. Oh, playing hard to get, are we? Karl smirks; he likes that. He moves a bit closer to the other guy, who throws him a seemingly unimpressed look. His neighbour may looks uninterested, but the subtle shift of hips and the slight spreading of legs, the way he leans slightly towards Karl and the carefully hidden smile proves to Karl’s keen eye that he is very interested. That one sure looks like he likes it rough. This will be fun.

He moves even closer, they are touching shoulders to hips now. Karl doesn’t miss the intake of breath or the way the other stiffens briefly then relaxes against him. He smirks and sips his whiskey, not taking his eyes of the other guy’s face. His neighbour ignores him for a while, but finally turns towards him with a challenging expression.

“What?”

Karl grins. “Come here often?”

The other snorts. “Does that line ever work for you?”

“Oh yes. Sooner or later they all _come_.”

Another snort. “I just bet.”

The guy is now blatantly checking him out. Karl smirks. He knew choosing to wear this outfit was a good idea, the white wife beater clings to his chest, the dark brown leather pants outline his groin to perfection. And clearly the other approves.

Karl tilts his head and returns the favour. His neighbour shifts, tilts his hips forward and lets his legs splay open, lets himself be ogled. Karl whistles appreciatively and the other fakes a bashful smile. “Like what you see?”

“The view is very nice. But I think it would be even nicer if you were spread across my bed with my dick up your arse.”

A surprised laugh. “Well, you’re certainly not the shy type.”

“I have nothing to be shy about.” Karl lets his eyes drop to his own groin and is pleased when the other follows his gaze and licks his lips. Yes, this looks very promising. Those long legs wrapped around his waist, those arms grabbing the headboard, this delicious throat bared to Karl’s teeth, and oh, that mouth, these pink, lush lips, wrapped around his cock, swollen and bruised… this is just what he needs tonight. Karl’s really glad he came to the club today.

“Apparently not.” His neighbour’s voice sounds husky now and he looks at Karl through his lashes with a seductive smile. “What did you have in mind?”

“How about I take you home and fuck your brains out?”

The other laughs again, a warm and slightly throaty laugh. “No, you’re definitely not shy. I like that.”

“You do, hm?” Karl moves in front of the other, puts both hands on the bar, framing the guy’s body, presses him back against the wood and positions his face mere inches from the other’s. The guy licks his lips again and watches him with a raised eyebrow. Karl raises his own and rolls his hips slowly, rubbing them against the groin beneath him, feels an answering hardness rise and smirks.

“You like that, too?” The other shivers and his eyes fall shut briefly. Karl noses that inviting neck and closes his teeth briefly over a bit of soft, sweet-smelling skin. The other gasps and arches his throat. “Yeah, you like that.”

Karl grins and moves back a little. He cups one hand over the other’s groin and gives it a firm squeeze, causing another gasp and a shudder. “Then how about we get out of here?”

The guy blinks a few times before he seems to recover. “No objections here. Lead the way.”

Karl steps back and holds out a hand. Without hesitation the other takes it and lets Karl pull him towards the back door.

“What’s your name, by the way?”

Karl grins. “Call me Dick.”

The other snorts. “Okay… ‘Dick’. I’m Zach, pleased to meet you. I can’t wait to see if you’ll live up to that name.”

Karl laughs and pulls Zach further along. The other doesn’t resist, and Karl grins in anticipation. This is gonna be a great night.

 

 _Chris_

Chris can’t believe his luck. He was fully prepared to come back tomorrow, or maybe several times, because the chances that Karl would be at the Jade Staff today of all days were slim at best, but there he is. Karl Urban, clad in brown leather and a white undershirt, leaning against the bar and talking to someone Chris can’t see, ignorant of Chris lurking in the shadows and moving closer. Inattentive, unsuspecting, focused entirely on his conversation partner. Chris feels the familiar excitement, the rush of being on the hunt, of watching and waiting. His target, his prey. Karl.

Chris walks towards him, taking care of keeping other people between them, and watches him. God, Karl looks good. Handsome, dangerous, sexy as hell. Chris can’t take his eyes off him, watches and admires, and it’s good he’s watching, because now Karl is moving. Takes the other guy’s hand, Chris still can’t see him properly, and pulls him towards the back door.

Chris follows quickly, still hiding behind other guests. This is going better than he imagined. He doesn’t have to try and lure Karl into a trap, that other guy does it for him. Chris only has to follow and wait for his chance, knock Karl out when he’s… distracted, subdue and catch him, and maybe he’ll get to bash that other guy’s nose in, too. Perfect.

He reaches the backdoor moments after it swung shut behind Karl and hurries through. Where did Karl… SHIT!

Apparently Karl hadn’t wanted to wait until he was safely back in his motel room or wherever, and decided he wanted a taste of tonight’s entertainment right now. Because Karl has the guy pressed against the wall directly next to the club’s back door, was busy shoving his tongue down the other’s throat when Chris barged out. And of course Karl heard him, Chris wasn’t exactly quiet, shit, a rookie’s mistake, heard him and stopped the kiss, looked around to see who caused all that stupid noise, _shit_.

Karl and Chris stare at each other for a moment, Chris hears the other guy mutter a soft “Oh fuck”, but he ignores it, he only has eyes for his former lover – his target. Karl’s eyes widen when he recognizes Chris, Chris stares into his eyes, can’t look away, is stunned until Karl shoves a hand inside his leather jacket. Chris starts and grabs for his own gun, but he’s too slow, and now Karl has his gun out, Chris was too slow, but Karl doesn’t point the gun at him, no. He jerks the other guy in front of himself, wraps both arms around his chest, trapping the other’s limbs, one big hand covering the guy’s mouth, the other hand shoving the gun against a bare throat, and Chris finally sees the other guy’s face and freezes.

Zach.

Chris’ head is swimming with questions. How did Zach get here? Why did he come here? How did he find Karl, what the _fuck_ is going on? And shit shit shit, Karl is pressing a gun to Zach’s throat, _fuck_! He finally gets his own gun up and pointed at Karl, at his former lover holding a gun to Zach, he’s shaking and staring, a growl rises in his throat and his blood burns. He realizes suddenly – Zach must have talked to John, or Anton, must have found out about Karl, must have decided to come after him himself, Jesus, because Chris yelled at him and told him he was weak and useless, fucking _fuck_! Chris feels ill now, his stomach rolls, what has he done, oh shit. And Karl’s talking, is yelling at him, asking him how he found him, tells him he knows why Chris is here, and that he won’t get Karl alive, never. Chris opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to say, and it’s useless anyway.

Because Karl is walking backwards now, is pulling Zach with him, Zach who is twisting and trying to fight, and Karl clocks him over the head with his gun, Zach sags limply, only barely conscious, Karl drags him away, and Chris is still standing there, standing and staring, useless. Karl threatens him, tells him to leave him alone, promises he’ll kill Zach if Chris comes closer, if he follows them, and Chris watches numbly as Karl drags his lover away, presses the gun against his head and threatens the one he loves.

Chris still has his gun up, even after Karl pulled Zach around the corner, even after they are long gone. He’s shocked, he’s frozen, he’s petrified. He’s scared. Zach.

Oh fuck, Zach.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mirror!AU.  
> Please heed the series warnings.  
> Additional chapter note: Karl's POV is written in non-U.S. spelling for a reason. Still, my "Kiwi"-English is a bit rusty, so if anyone notices spelling mistakes or "wrong" words, please tell me.

_Then_

If he’s honest, Chris had known he couldn’t keep his real job a secret forever. But he’d hoped.

He’d he kept the job at the coffee shop, and even let Karl pick him up there some days to make it more believable. Chris told Karl he’d joined a boxing class to explain his occasional bruises, shrugging and faking embarrassment for his “weak defense” in his latest fight when Karl worried. He made up excuses about extra shifts at the coffee shop and the homeless shelter Bruce used as a front for getting home late at night. And Karl smiled at him and told him he liked Chris working for a good cause. Karl was a cop; he was smart, he was used to people lying to him. Still, he never seemed to suspect Chris.

Chris had felt guilty and uncomfortable about lying to Karl, he’d hated it, but Karl… he wouldn’t have understood it, the thrill of the catch, the hunt, the adrenaline. Karl didn’t become a cop because he wanted to catch bad guys, he did it because he wanted to help people. Keep them safe, protect them – Karl wouldn’t have understood.

So, Chris had made up stories, found explanations and reasons for everything. He’d hated it; lying to Karl had hurt, but it had been necessary. He’d done almost everything he could to keep Karl from finding out about his career as a bounty hunter, but in the end it hadn’t been enough. One stupid mistake on one horrible day, and it was over.

That day Chris beat up a former kindergarten teacher who’d stolen the presents the kids were supposed to get on Christmas. He’d had a lot of fun with the pathetic bastard, so much fun he didn’t notice the camera. Didn’t notice, finished his job, went home early with a smile on his face, planning what he’d cook for dinner.

By the time Bruce called and yelled himself hoarse it was already too late. The police had found the tape, had seen his face, had seen everything he did, had linked him to the other stuff Bruce had promised to make go away, and now they were after him. And they would find him – Karl would find him.

 

Chris is still staring at his phone after Bruce hung up with a last threat. Shit. Maybe Karl hasn’t heard yet? Maybe Chris still has time to, he doesn’t know what, get away, hide, wait until it’s all over? Maybe there still is a chance?

A key turns in the lock, Chris freezes. Karl enters, and one look at his face is enough to tell Chris there is no chance. And when Karl throws a bunch of photographs at his feet, Chris knows it’s all over. Pictures from this day’s fiasco, a grainy photograph from the Slater assignment, a mug shot from the Mahoney case, more pictures from Chris’ early jobs, and Chris looks at them and doesn’t know what to say. If he’s honest, he’d known he couldn’t keep his real job a secret forever. But oh, how he’d hoped.

He doesn’t say a word when Karl starts yelling, he doesn’t defend himself when the accusations start, doesn’t try to explain when Karl asks him if it was all a lie, doesn’t respond when his now former lover hurls insults, punches a wall. Chris doesn’t react when Karl starts crying. He’s numb, he’s frozen. He feels dead inside.

Chris doesn’t resist when Karl shoves him against the wall and kisses him one last time, opens his mouth and doesn’t kiss back. He doesn’t fight when Karl locks the handcuffs around his wrists. He stares at out of the window during the drive to the station and makes no sound. Chris doesn’t say a word when they take his prints and his photograph, lets himself be lead to a cell. He sits down on the hard cot, pulls his legs up and wraps his arms around his knees.

It’s over.

In the end Bruce makes everything disappear. Chris doesn’t know how, but he doesn’t care, he gets released from prison and all charges are dropped. But not until after he spends four weeks in jail. What happens in there he can handle, grits his teeth and gets through it. He buries it deep, deep down with the memories of his father, deals with it in his own way, ignoring the occasional nightmares. He never talks about it. Everybody has issues, and what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.

And he’s stronger now, he’s cold and hard and strong as steel, he’s sharp and deadly as a blade. He kills for the first time in jail, ends a life for the first time, and it doesn’t bother him. Fucker deserved it, Chris deserved it, and it doesn’t bother him.

He stands in front of the prison, blinking in the bright sunlight. Bruce should be there to pick him up soon, and Chris is impatient to get back to his life. Start again, start new, do it better this time. He thinks of Karl for a moment and ignores the leaden feeling in his stomach. It’s over now. It doesn’t bother him. It doesn’t.

 

 _Now_

Chris is still in the backstreet behind the Jade Staff. He’s angry, he’s furious, and he’s scared. Karl took Zach and disappeared, he’s gone and Chris doesn’t know where they are. He’d raced after them as soon as he’d shaken himself from the shock at seeing his lover with a gun against his throat. He’d run around the corner, tried to catch up, cursing his slowness, his stupidity, but all he saw was a car speeding away. He was too slow, he fucked up, and now Zach’s gone.

Chris kicks the dumpster in frustration and wills John to pick up already. Why, why in hell did he take this job? Why did he think it was a good idea to go after Karl? How could this happen? Chris curses himself, he can’t blame Zach, his lover never would have gone after Karl on his own if it wasn’t for Chris. Chris who’d yelled at him, lied to him, kept secrets, insulted him and told him he thought Zach was weak and helpless. It’s all Chris’ own fault.

And now Karl has taken Zach God knows where, threatened him and hit him and took him from Chris, and he doesn’t have a clue as to where they might be. Chris’ stomach twists and he grinds his teeth hard. Suddenly he remembers everything John told him about Karl, about what he himself has read in the papers and heard from other people. Remembers every murder Karl committed, remembers the pictures and the descriptions, mutilated corpses, bloody and beaten, tortured and killed. Chris shudders and closes his eyes.

John doesn’t know where Karl might have gone. Neither does Bruce or de Luca, and wasn’t that a fun conversation. Chris punches the wall, then sucks on his bloody knuckles. He declines John’s and Bruce’s offers to come over and help, ignores their worry and their questions, hangs up when de Luca starts mocking him. No one can help him. No one. Chris is alone in this. Chris doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know where to find him, where to look, can’t do shit and it’s all his fault.

Where is Zach? Where did Karl take him? What has Karl done to his lover by now?

Chris lets out a furious yell and throws his phone against the wall. It shatters, right in the spot where Karl had his tongue down Zach’s throat earlier. Shit fucking shit! Chris stares down at the ground, at the plastic pieces littering the floor and seethes. Guilt is churning in his gut, he wrestles it down, concentrates on his anger. Anger is better than guilt, it helps him. Makes him focus, makes him think harder, try harder.

There’s a matchbox on the floor. Chris frowns and looks at it. On it is a picture of a palm tree underneath a sunset, an address and the name “Sunshine Motel”. A cheap advertising gift, probably taken from a bowl on the receptionist’s desk. Chris narrows his eyes, thinking. The backstreet is more or less clean, no garbage lying around, which means the street cleaners have been here recently.

And that means this matchbox can’t have been here for long, and given that it’s lying close to the Jade Staff’s backdoor, it was probably lost by a guest of the club. Zach doesn’t use matches, he has a Zippo. It doesn’t have to be Karl who lost it, but there’s a chance he was the one who dropped it. A chance that Karl might be at that motel, a chance to find him. Find Zach.

Chris starts running.

 

\-----

 

Karl dumps the unconscious Zach on the bed, then hastens to lock the door and lower the blinds. When that’s done, he turns towards the bed, ripping a sheet and using the shreds to tightly secure the guy’s wrists to the headboard. Satisfied that he’s safe for now, he positions himself next to the window, out of sight, and peers through a small gap in the blinds.

Chris will come for him, Karl knows that. He read his former lover’s file; he knows what Chris is capable of. What he’s done, how good he is at finding people who don’t want to be found. What Chris is – a hunter. And a very good one. Hell, he even found Karl back then, after Natalie and the kids… after _it_ happened and Karl had disappeared to where he’d thought no one could find him. But Chris did, and he’ll find him this time, too. It would be crazy to think he would not, it’s Chris job, and he’s damn good at it.

Karl fingers his gun and watches the parking lot. Let Chris come. He won’t go down without a fight, and Chris will curse the day he accepted de Luca’s assignment. Karl is ready.

A moan disturbs him, and Karl turns. Zach’s waking up. He eyes his hostage, watches carefully as the other comes to. Zach winces at his no doubt throbbing head, sluggishly tries to move his hands and freezes when he can’t. His eyes fly open, he stiffens and looks up. Discovering he’s tied to the headboard he gasps in surprise, and the next second he starts yanking on the sheet shreds. He twists and fights, but can’t get free. Karl smirks, he used to be a cop, he knows how to secure someone. He crosses his arms and watches Zach struggle.

Zach hears him move and twists his head to look in his direction. His mouth falls open when he sees Karl. “You!”

Karl smirks and bows mockingly. “Me. Welcome back, Zach.”

Zach sneers and glares at him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Let me go!”

“I think not. You’re my insurance, I’m gonna keep you… for now.”

“I – what? I said let me go you fucker!”

“Nope. Get comfortable, sweetheart, you’re staying right where you are. And stop struggling, you’ll only hurt yourself.”

“Fuck you, Urban! Take these things off my wrists right this instant or I’ll kill you!”

Karl freezes. ‘Urban’? Shit! “What did you say?!”

“I said get them off or I’ll kill you, you fucking bastard!”

“How do know that name?” Zach glares and doesn’t answer. “I said, how do you know that name? Are you one of de Luca’s boys? Huh?”

Zach snorts and turns his head away, ignores him and works on his bindings. Karl stalks over and grabs his hair, forces his head back to look him in the face. “Tell me how you know my name! Who are you?!”

Zach kicks him in the stomach.

Karl is taken completely by surprise; he stumbles backwards and slams against the wall. Zach is twisting around, gets his feet beneath himself and tries to stand up, yanks at the ties around his wrists and struggles to get free. Karl gets his breath back, hurls himself towards the bed and lands on top of Zach. The other lands on his chest with a “oof”, Karl scrambles to pin him properly, Zach fights and bucks beneath him, almost throws him off again, Karl gets both knees on the bed, shoves him back onto the mattress, straddles his thighs and uses both hands to hold him down.

Zach curses and twists, Karl leans his full weight onto the body below him and pins him. He won’t get away that easily, no chance, not before he’s told Karl exactly how he knows his name, how de Luca found him, who else has been sent after him. Fucking hell, first Chris and now this!

Zach is fighting to throw him off, Karl presses even harder, hands sliding over the slippery silk of the other’s shirt, he looks down to get a better grip – and then he sees it.

Zach’s shirt has ridden up slightly, and there, on the small of his back, above hidden by the waistband of the leather pants, is a tattoo. Two words, written in black ink, there above Zach’s arse, plainly visible even in the dim light of the motel room. A mark, a sign of ownership, a name. A name Karl knows very well, and suddenly it all makes sense. Zach is still struggling, and Karl stares at the tattoo.

“Christopher Pine”. Shit.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mirror!AU.  
> Please heed the series warnings.  
> Additional chapter note: Karl's POV is written in non-U.S. spelling for a reason. Still, my "Kiwi"-English is a bit rusty, so if anyone notices spelling mistakes or "wrong" words, please tell me.  
> Additional warning for this chapter: Here will be violence and the threat of rape. **Please don't read if this squicks you!!!**

_Zach_

When Urban stops holding him down and just sits on his legs, Zach renews his struggles, twisting and fighting, trying to throw him off. He doesn’t know why the other stopped, he just wants to get loose and wrap his hands around Urban’s throat. He can’t believe he’s been so stupid as to use Urban’s real name, that he revealed he knows him. Fuck! And now he’s here, tied to the bed, at the mercy of this man, this killer, and he remembers the stuff he read online about Urban’s victims, about all the murders. He’d really like to get these bindings off now, get free.

Zach grinds his teeth; this whole evening really didn’t go as he’d imagined. He’d thought catching Urban alone would be easy - the guy didn’t know him after all, he’d lure him away and knock him out, simple. He’d hoped to show Chris what he’s capable off, and now here he is, trapped. Alone, tied up, and Chris isn’t here to save him this time. Where is Chris?

And why didn’t Chris help him earlier? He just stood there and stared, didn’t do a damn thing to help him and Urban took him and… Zach’s caught, he’s alone, he can’t get free, and Chris doesn’t know where he is. Fuck, Zach hates feeling so helpless, and he can’t get loose and this feels just like… no, no thinking about that, focus!

Zach continues to struggle, fighting down the emotions and memories that try to rise to the surface, he’s not thinking about Winters, he’s not, he has to get free, and Urban is moving off the bed now, is standing back and watching him, looks at him with a strange expression on his face that Zach can’t decipher, an expression that makes his stomach twist uncomfortably. And Urban pulls out a knife and watches him and _where is Chris?_

“So you’re Chris’ boy, aren’t you?”

Fuck. The tattoo. Fuck!

“He’s fucking you now? Or is he your pimp? I didn’t think he was into skanks now. He sent you after me, didn’t he? Thought he could catch me if he let his whore play bait?”

Zach twists around and glares at Urban. How dare that Kiwi bastard call him a whore!

“Didn’t want me to see him, huh? Thought I would run as soon as I’d see my ex-lover suddenly appear, what a coincidence! Well, that didn’t work out so well, did it?”

Ex-lover? _What?!_

 

 _Chris_

Chris wills his car to drive faster, clutching the steering wheel. Still over 10 miles to the motel, and he doesn’t even know if Karl is really there. If _Zach_ is there. Chris bites his lips and curses silently. It’s his fault that Zach is in this situation! Chris let him go alone, didn’t protect him...hell, he drove him away and practically made him go after Karl himself. If he hadn’t yelled at Zach, if he hadn’t insulted and belittled him, Zach would never have done it. And now, it’s his fault that Zach got caught, and his fault if his lover gets hurt.

Chris blinks furiously, grinds his teeth and drives, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gun in his lap. The cold metal feels soothing against his palm, protection and promise. Revenge, even, if Karl has dared to hurt Zach.

Zach is his life, Chris would kill for him, _has_ killed for him, he’ll protect Zach with everything he has, and if Karl has touched his lover or harmed him in any way, Chris will make him pay for it.

6 miles to the motel. Chris floors it.

 

 _Karl_

Zach is staring at him. At first he looked only angry, but now he seems shocked. Karl looks him over thoughtfully and runs a finger along the back of the knife. The other’s eyes travel quickly between Karl’s face and the weapon in his hands, back and forth, before they focus on Karl’s face again. Zach licks his lips nervously and Karl smiles.

“What? I’m right, ain’t I? He used you as bait, thought you’d distract me. Well, it worked briefly, I’ll admit that, you’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? But now I got you, and Chris is coming after me, and what will he do if he finds his whore in the hands of his ex-lover, hm? You think he’ll rescue you?” Zach’s eyes flick to the door and Karl laughs. “Oh, you do! How precious!”

Zach opens his mouth, but Karl talks over him. “I don’t believe he will.” Karl gives a twisted smile, “You really think he’ll care about what happens to his whore?”

“I am not his whore!”

Zach is sitting up now, arms twisted in the bindings, straining towards Karl as far as he can get, a furious expression on his face. “I am not! And he didn’t send me and you don’t know the first thing about him!” Zach bares his teeth and glares at him, fists opening and closing, murder in his eyes. If Karl was in reach, Zach would obviously try to attack him, but as he is not, he only can glare and snarl.

Karl looks at him and laughs condescendingly. He feels a savage pleasure at the fury in Zach’s eyes.  “Oh, I see! He’s your _boyfriend_! That’s why he tattooed his name above your tight little ass, because he’s your boyfriend! Not your owner, hmm? I’m sorry, my mistake, I thought a relationship consisted of two equals, where nobody is the other’s property, I guess I was wrong. Seems Chris has changed a bit since I last fucked him!”

“Don’t say his name! You know nothing about him, about us, so shut the fuck up!”

Something ugly rears his head in Karl’s stomach. He bares his teeth at Zach and snarls at him. How dare that little bastard! “Oh, I know nothing about Chris?” He enjoys the way the other jerks angrily at the name, “Boy, I know more about him that you ever will. What did he tell you? That we hooked up once or twice so he could get information about his targets from me? Hmm? Or something else? I’m curious, really, what did he say about me?”

Zach’s mouths works, but no sound emerges. And then his eyes flicker to the side briefly and Karl grins in dark delight. “Oh, I see! He didn’t tell you _anything_ , did he?” He laughs when Zach twitches and looks away, furious and embarrassed. “This is too precious! Your boyfriend kept our past from you, didn’t he? He didn’t tell you we were a together for 3 years, that we lived together and shared everything? That we loved each other? I bet he only told you that I arrested him and sent him to prison…” Karl eyes Zach’s face and grins again. “Aww, he didn’t even tell you that! Your precious boyfriend didn’t say one word about me, about his past, about us! And you think you’re his equal? Think again, boy!”

Zach is still looking away, blinking furiously, his head his bowed. His throat works and his hands clench around the bindings. Karl looks at him and smiles.

 

 _Zach_

Zach swallows around the lump in his throat. He will not let Urban get to him, he will not. Chris is his lover, his partner, he is Zach’s as much as Zach is his, and he will not let Urban try and destroy that. Chris has done so much for him, has killed for him, saves and protects him. Zach won’t let some random stranger of Chris take that feeling of safety from him, he knows Chris loves him.

But a niggling sense of doubt creeps up in his mind. Urban is not a stranger, not to Chris. And what he told Zach… Does Chris love him? Does he really? He didn’t tell Zach about Karl, he didn’t say one word about their past. He lied and kept secrets, he let Karl take him and didn’t do anything to prevent it. Didn’t even try.

And Chris never told Zach he loves him. Zach tells him so all the time, but Chris… he’s never said it, not once. Never.

Karl is moving towards him now and Zach is jerked from his dark thoughts. Chris isn’t here, he’s alone with this killer, and he has to try and escape himself. Zach yanks at his bindings again. Is he imagining…? He keeps his face expressionless and stops struggling. Yes, the strips of cloth around his wrists seem looser, he’s sure of that. Which means he can maybe get out of them, if he moves quickly. But there’s still the problem of Urban. Who has a gun and a knife. Zach has nothing - but he has an idea.

He steels himself and sneers at Urban. “Oh, and your relationship was so much better? Chris loved you? Are you sure about that? I mean…” Zach chuckles derisively and the other narrows his eyes at him. Good, Zach wants to make him angry. Angry people make mistakes; they get too close, and if Urban does, Zach will be ready.

“There’s no chance that Chris played you? That he only used you to get information about his targets? Couldn’t it be? Tell me, how many victims of Chris had files at your station? How many of them did you investigate yourself, wrote reports about? How many people was Chris able to find because he used _you_ to get to them? Three years, that has to be quite a body count! And all because you told Chris where he could find them!”

Zach throws his head back and laughs. “All those bodies, all your fault because you let Chris play you! Oh yes, he loved you! Or should I say, he loved the information he could get from you!”

 

 _Chris_

The car’s tires screech when Chris makes a sharp turn and careens into the motel’s parking lot. He doesn’t bother to use one of the marked parking spaces, stops the car right in front of the motel’s receptionist hall and gets out without even taking the key out of the ignition. He does grab his gun, though, holds it tightly and runs towards the entrance where the night clerk is already pulling the door open, shouting that Chris can’t park his car there. Chris shows him the gun, which shuts the guy up pretty fast.

Chris makes the receptionist give him the list of guests currently staying at the motel, then knocks him out and locks him inside a closet. He hurries out of the hall, along the narrow corridor leading towards the rooms, fingers trailing along the list.

There, Karl-Heinz Miller. Natalie’s maiden name. Room 1013. Chris starts running.

 

 _Karl_

Karl snarls, throws himself across the room and lands on the bed. He dodges a kick to the groin, Zach twists away and yanks at this bindings, gets his hands free suddenly; Karl avoids the other’s fists, his knees and feet and teeth, crawls on top of Zach and pins him down. He gets a fist to the side of his head. Pain blooms in his head, ear ringing - he ignores it, holds the other firmly. Zach’s fighting again, bucking like a wild horse beneath him, yelling and screaming. Karl scrambles to pin his hands, narrowly dodging another blow, wraps a big hand around Zach’s slender wrists and squeezes them savagely, feels bones grind against each other under soft skin, causing a pained scream. Zach moves and twists, fights and bucks, until Karl bangs Zach’s head against the headboard and he slumps, dazed and limp.

Karl works quickly, uses the time the other’s dizzy and unresisting to flip him over onto his stomach, ties his hands behind his back. Zach shakes his head, trying to clear it, and Karl sits down on Zach’s legs again. Then he grabs the knife he lost in the scuffle from where it has fallen onto the bed and rests the cold blade against the other’s throat. Zach freezes and Karl leans in close to whisper into his ear.

“That was an exceptionally bad idea, boy. I see why you were taunting me, you thought you’d be able to distract me and get free. But it didn’t work, Zachary. You only succeeded in making me even more angry. And now that I got you, I’ll show you exactly how angry I am. You think your and Chris’ relationship is better than mine? You think _you_ are better than I am? I’ll show you how wrong you are. You are nothing but a whore, but me, I was his lover. His partner. Tell me, did he ever let you fuck him? No? But he did let me, Zach, I fucked him a thousand times. I took his virginity even, I was his _first_ , and what are you? I know why he put his name on you, not because he loves you, oh no, because you are his property, his bitch. His little toy that no one else gets to use, and you put your name on your toys in case they get lost, right? I was his lover for 3 years, and you, you are nothing but a hole to him, a body that doesn’t resist when he fucks it, who loves being used. And since you love it so much, why don’t we try a little something, hmm? Let’s see how you like being fucked by someone else but your precious _boyfriend_.”

Zach’s breathing heavily, his body is stiff as a board underneath Karl, but he doesn’t say a word, can’t say a word, because Karl has the knife against his throat, if Zach speaks it will cut him, and Zach closes his eyes and makes a small distressed sound. Karl chuckles at hearing it, he likes the panic he saw in the other’s eyes before he closed them, he likes the light tremor in his frame, the fear evident in the other’s expression. Good. He wants Zach afraid. He deserves it, deserves to be scared.

Karl trails the knife along Zach’s shoulder, the razor-sharp metal slicing the fine silk shirt easily. Zach twitches but stills again quickly when the blade nicks his skin. Karl grins and runs the blade down along Zach’s back, the shirt falls open to reveal a smooth back with various bruises. Fingerprints, hands… and bite marks. He looks at a bruise on a pale shoulder, a perfect circle of teeth imprints surrounding a violently purple mark, and grinds his teeth.

Karl leans in close again, Zach’s breath hitches when the blade trails over arms, his wrists, tickles his bound fingers, and comes to rest against the small of his back. Against the tattoo.

“What, you like my knife?” Karl chuckles. Zach moans softly and tries to turn his face away. Karl stops him with a hand around his chin. The other has his lips pressed together firmly, they look almost white in the dim light of the motel room, his eyes are screwed shut and his lashes are wet. Karl smiles to himself. Perfect.

“I think you do. Look at you, spread out for me. Moaning for me. How about we make this even more interesting, hm?”

Karl pulls back again and lets go of Zach’s chin. The other instantly turns his head away and buries his face in the bed’s comforter. His shoulders are trembling slightly, tremors run along his lithe frame, and Karl watches and grins. Scared yes, but not terrified. Not yet.

He lifts the knife away, not missing the soft sound Zach makes, and uses both hands to tug at Zach’s pants. The other’s eyes fly open, he arches away, but it’s useless. Karl has his pants down to mid-thigh in moments, his arse bared, and Zach starts shivering for real.

Karl eyes his form for a brief moment, then rests the blade against Zach’s crack. “So you like getting fucked, hmm? How about I fuck you with this?”

Zach is hyperventilating, tries to shy away, but Karl grips one hip firmly and runs the knife along Zach’s crack, positions the tip over the tightly clenched hole. Zach moans in panic, he’s terrified now, he twitches and jerks but he can’t get away. He’s keening now, soft panicky noises, mewling and mumbling, Karl pauses and listens, hears the litany of “no” and “please” and “not this” and “please don’t” and “not again” and freezes.

He pulls the knife away, throws it across the room. It lands with a clatter on the wooden floor. He scrambles off Zach’s legs, the other stiffens and trembles, still begging, quiet hopeless sounds and Karl listens and feels his stomach twist.

Zach realizes Karl is gone, he jerks away, scrambles upwards towards the headboard, hindered by his bound hands and legs trapped in his pants and curls up at the top of the bed. Karl watches him, shocked, Zach stares back, eyes wide and black, tears streaming down deathly white cheeks. Zach doesn’t see him, looks at Karl’s face and right through him, lost in a very dark place, and he’s still talking, begging really, telling someone named Winters to stop and Karl feels sick.

Oh God, what has he done? He only wanted to scare Zach, make him afraid, get a little revenge, make Zach as scared as he was earlier. He never meant to actually do it, never, he's no rapist, he just wanted to scare the boy a little! And now? Now Zach is curled into a ball, flinches away when Karl touches his shoulder softly, is crying and shaking, and it’s Karl’s fault. What has he done?

He bends over Zach, who convulses when Karl touches him, eyes wide and unseeing. Zach doesn’t resist when Karl rolls him over, and Karl is scared now, because all the fight has left the other man, he’s not trying to get free, only shivers in his grasp, and even when Karl loosens his bindings he doesn’t move away, only wraps his arms around his chest and shakes. Karl stays close and watches him, Zach’s mouth is moving, his breath goes fast and shallow, his eyes are screwed shut now, tears and sweat dripping off his face. Oh God, what now?

He stretches a hesitant hand towards Zach’s pants, thinking of covering him up and maybe make him a little more comfortable, Zach keens and moves his head from side to side, a soft litany of “no”s falling from his lips. Karl tries to ignore the sounds, the sight, the guilt twisting in his stomach and starts pulling Zach’s pants back up again. The other lets out an anguished “please no!” at Karl’s touch, and Karl has to grab the hands weakly trying to fend him off in order to finish his task.

Then the door flies open suddenly and crashes loudly into the wall. Karl freezes, one hand around Zach’s wrists, the other on his waistband, and Zach is crying “no” and “stop”, and the figure in the doorway steps forward, comes closer, and raises a gun at Karl.

It’s Chris.


	7. Chapter 7

_Now_

Karl can’t move, can’t look away, can’t even breathe as he stares at the figure in the doorway. In the long moments while Chris is frozen and simply looks at them, at Karl, at Zach trembling beneath him, Karl can only stare, heart beating in his throat. Chris. Chris.

He got a glimpse of Chris earlier, in the backstreet behind that fucking club, but now, in the harsh light spilling from the outside he can see him properly for the first time. Chris looks… different.

Chris is no longer the sunny golden boy with the open face, who blushed and ducked his head when Karl asked him out for the first time, who had a ready smile for everyone and whose eyes glowed when they looked at Karl. The man standing there doesn’t smile, his eyes are cold as steel, his grip on the gun doesn’t waver. Faint lines around Chris’ mouth and eyes belie the things he’s done, penetrating eyes, still so blue but somehow less… bright, speak of all the evilness he’s had to see. Chris looks serious, grave, he looks older now. And he looks dangerous. Lethal.

Karl remembers sunny smiles and happy laughter, he looks at Chris and his heart is heavy. His ex-lover doesn’t smile at him now. Karl thinks about wide blue eyes that watched him with anguish and resignation while he put the handcuffs around Chris’ wrists, he remembers about a slender figure with slumped shoulders in a dark cell, he thinks about a man with a hard face and hard eyes walking back out of prison months later. He looks at Chris, not his Chris anymore, almost a stranger now, and wants to weep.

He remembers the last time they saw each other, back then, after Natalie and the kids were taken from him, when Chris had found him, and he knows the man his Chris has become today is his fault, too. The man looking at him in fury, murder in his eyes, the man who’s pointing a gun at him. The man sent to kill him.

 

 _Then_

Gone, they are gone. Natalie, the kids.... Taken from him, killed. Murdered. Gone.

He sits in a corner of the hut he’s fled to, one hand clamped around the bottle and tries to breathe. He feels as if he were underwater, weighted down by guilt and grief, he can’t move, can’t breathe, there’s no air left in the room, in his lungs. They are gone.

Karl Urban, no longer a husband, no longer a father, sits there and is drowning. No more smiles and laughter, no more lazy mornings spend in bed, with Hunter making them breakfast and carefully carrying the tray in while Indy brings his favorite puzzle for them all to work on. No more picnics in the park, playing Frisbee and stealing kisses from his girl who laughs and shoves him away, scolds him for getting grass stains on her clothes and kisses him back when he pretends to pout. No more, nothing left, never again. He’s alone now, alone.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, trying to drown himself in the bottle, trying to forget white faces and empty eyes, that horrible phone call. When he found out de Luca had taken his family, taken everything, when he realised it was his doing, his fault, if he’d never went after de Luca, if he’d never heard about the man, if he’d just accepted the bribes like his colleagues did, if he only had… his fault, _his goddamn fault_.

The alcohol burns a path down his throat, his stomach turns and rebels, but Karl barely notices. They are dead, why should he feel anything? Sickness, pain, anger, nothing matters anymore. He’s dead, too.

The sinking sun makes the bottle appear orange, the liquid inside red as blood, and Karl feels bile rising in his throat. He throws it across the room, it shatters against the opposite wall, and he buries his face in his hands and whimpers. They are gone.

He doesn’t hear the door open, doesn’t hear soft steps coming towards him. He barely notices when someone touches him, hauls him up and maneuvers him over onto the bed. He ignores the hands pulling his outer clothes off, draping the blanket across him, doesn’t open his eyes when warm fingers card through his hair. He buries his face into the dusty comforter, smelling faintly of mothballs, and cries until darkness claims him.

When he wakes up Chris is watching him.

Sitting in the armchair, hands stapled, a sombre look on his face and looking at him. Karl stares back, expressionless. His head hurts, his face feels numb. His heart feels numb. Chris watches him, and Karl stares back. He doesn’t even have the energy to ask Chris why he’s here.

Chris cocks his head at him. “Welcome back.”

Karl says nothing.

“Do you want to know how I found you?”

He doesn’t answer. Why should he care? He turns his head away. There’s a spider’s web in the corner, looks like it has been there a while. It’s dusty, though, apparently deserted. No spider there to collect the flies still stuck to the strands.

Chris clears his throat. He fidgets a little, Karl can see it out of the corner of his eye. “I came as soon as I heard. Karl, I’m so sorry.”

I’m so sorry. He’s heard these words a lot during the last few days, during the funeral, after he’d watched dark earth rain down onto the coffins, a big one and two smaller ones. Meaningless words told by people who have no idea how he feels, who give some random empty phrase to make themselves feel better, not because they really are sorry. Not one of them has even the slightest idea how it’s like, the grief, the guilt, knowing it was you that caused this, that it was your own fault. And you’re sorry, so sorry, you wish you could turn back time and fix it, make everything alright again, but you can’t. Karl chokes on a sob, they are gone, forever, he’s alone, and it’s all his fault, if he’d never gone after de Luca, if he’d just, and he’s sorry, so sorry.

“Karl? Can you hear me? I’m here, okay? I want to help you, I know what you are going through, and I want to help you any way I can.”

And suddenly Karl is angry. No, no, Chris doesn’t know what he’s going through, because he hasn’t had his heart ripped from his chest, he hasn’t been torn to shreds, he’s still breathing and feeling and warm, he’s still alive, and they are not. They are not, and how dare Chris tell him he knows what he’s going through?!

Karl barely feels it when his fists hit Chris’ face. His anger nearly blinds him, it burns white-hot and bright, he hits Chris again and again, easily dodging the other’s defensive blows or, if they connect, he doesn’t notice. He pummels him mercilessy, relentlessy, without pause or break or hesitation, barely hears the gasps and moans and screams, barely sees the blood staining his fists now, in his ears is screaming a faint voice. The voice sounds vaguely familiar, yells insults and promises, calls for Natalie and Hunter and Indy, calls for de Luca and promises him he’ll pay. There’s another voice, too, crying and pleading for him to stop, but Karl doesn’t stop. He doesn’t.

Not until the body beneath him has stopped moving, until Chris is lying there silently, eyes closed, face splattered with crimson blood over pale pale skin, and he doesn’t even make it to the bathroom before he retches, again and again, throws up violently and curls into a ball and weeps.

He wakes up with a crystal clear head. He barely glances towards the body lying on the floor, spares merely a glimpse to see if Chris’ chest is moving. When Karl sees the other is breathing he turns away and walks towards the door. He knows what to do now, he sees it clearly. De Luca took everything from him, and now it’s Karl’s turn. Time to return the favour, time to make his family’s murderer pay. Time for revenge.

Karl closes a hand around the gold locket hanging from his neck and breathes in deeply. His lungs fill and expand; he can breathe again, now that he has a purpose.

He opens the door and steps out into the sunrise.

 

 _Now_

Karl remembers the last time he saw Chris, back then, when the other found him and wanted to help him, and he remembers his fists hitting soft flesh, he remembers washing blood from his hands and arms and face. He looks at his ex-lover, remembers what he did to him, looks at the gun pointed at his head, Chris’ angry blue eyes, and his heart is heavy, so heavy. He feels like he’s drowning again, lonely and alone, and Chris’ eyes flicker to Zach’s form briefly before he focuses back on Karl and steps closer.

“What have you done to him?!”

Karl closes his eyes. It’s over, this is the end. Chris will kill him, will end his life right here and now, and Karl doesn’t mind. He’s tired. He wants to sleep, finally sleep. Natalie and Hunter and Indy are waiting for him and he longs to see them again. He’s ready.

He opens his eyes again and looks at Chris. The other has taken another step towards him, closer to the bed, to Zach who is uncurling slowly after he has heard the sound of his Chris’ voice. To his lover, and Karl stands there alone.

“Do it, Chris. Kill me. That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? Do it, pull the trigger. Please, just do it, I want it to be over, I’m so tired. Chris, please, I want it, kill me, let me see them again, do it, shoot me…”

He’s begging now, Karl’s begging, and he doesn’t care, doesn’t mind doing it, not if this will get Chris to do what Karl wants, what he needs. But Chris is looking at him, blue eyes wide and brighter than before and then he drops the gun onto the bed. Suddenly his arms are around Karl and Chris is hugging him tight.

He’s pressed against Chris’ chest, feels soft hair against his cheek, wetness against his neck, Chris is clinging to him, murmurs “no” and “Karl” and “never”, tells him he’d never kill him, he won’t, never. Karl wraps hesitant arms around Chris, squeezes him closer, buries his nose in soft hair, breathes in the other’s clean smell and feels wetness on his own cheeks.

Then Chris pulls back, looks at him from impossibly blue eyes, he’s crying and smiling, and Karl feels a tug at his heart – this is the Chris he remembers, the Chris he fell in love with. Karl tries a smile, and Chris’ eyes are bright as he looks at him. Karl clears his throat and keeps his hands around Chris shoulders, looks at him and smiles.

“I missed you, Karl,” Chris’ voice sounds rough, but he’s smiling, a bit shy and sad, and Karl thinks he looks beautiful. He ruffles the kid’s hair with one hand and Chris blushes slightly. God, Karl has missed him, too. He’s just opening his mouth to tell him when a sound from the vicinity of the bed interrupts them. A gun cocking.

Both Karl and Chris flinch in surprise – Zach. They forgot Zach. They turn, and Zach is there, kneeling on the bed, eyes wide and dry, but oh so hurt. He’s shivering slightly, but his right hand grips Chris’ gun tightly in white-knuckled fingers.

“So it’s like that.” He says, voice soft and dull, and Karl cringes at the anguish in his face. Next to him Chris raises a hesitant hand towards his lover, but Zach shakes his head slowly.

“I should have known better.” Zach laughs suddenly, a harsh sound in the deadly silence of the room. Chris jerks and lets his hand fall, and Karl doesn’t dare to move. “But I really believed it was different this time.”

Zach smiles, twisted and ugly, then takes a deep breath and looks at Karl. He recoils from the fire in the dark eyes watching him and swallows around the lump in his throat. Neither Karl nor Chris dare say a word, not with Zach looking at them like that.

“I thought you were different, Chris, I thought _we_ were different. I guess I was wrong, wasn’t I? Deathly wrong.”

And Zach raises the gun and points it straight at Karl’s head. His grip doesn’t waver, his face is serious and resolved, his eyes hard and burning, and Karl feels his stomach drop.


	8. Chapter 8

_Zach_

There’s a dull roar in his ears, the edges of his vision darken slightly. Zach stares at them, at Chris and Urban, watches them hug and smile at each other and he starts shaking. When Chris had stormed in, roused from his nightmare and dark memories, came to the rescue, he had felt overwhelming joy and relief. And now? Now that Chris is telling Karl he missed him? Zach doesn’t feel a thing. No, that’s not true, he feels too much, he feels… Jealousy, anger, sadness, pain, so much pain.

It all makes sense now, horrible sense. He was so sure Urban was lying earlier, was just taunting him, but now he realizes it was the truth, every word of it. Chris doesn’t love him, never did, he’s just another guy that likes Zach’s body, a convenient hole to fuck, he cares about him only so far as that his property doesn’t get damaged. This is why he tattooed Zach, a mark of ownership, not love. And now Chris has Karl back, they have each other again, and Chris doesn’t need Zach anymore. Zach who can’t take care of himself, who was stupid enough to get caught, stupid enough to trust Chris, and now it’s over.

And God, how Zach had hoped it was different, Chris was different. After Winters and the others, after all that has happened to Zach before Chris came along, he’d really believed this was something else, something good. And Zach had wanted it, had wanted Chris, had craved Chris’ attention and care like he had craved nothing else before in his life. Joe had warned, hadn’t he? Told Zach to be careful, to protect himself, but he hadn’t listened. He’d given Chris his life, his heart, everything, and now… Now Zach is alone, he has nothing, it’s over. Zach curses himself for being so guileless, for believing it was different, and he still hopes it’s all just a misunderstanding, still hopes, still wants to…

Zach is hurt, hurt and angry, furious. At himself for being so stupid, at Chris for not being who Zach thought he was, and most of all, at Urban. The guy who took Chris from him, stole him away just by showing up, and Zach seethes and grinds his teeth.

The gun feels cold in his hand, heavy and unfamiliar, but he clenches his fingers tighter around the handle and keeps it trained on Urban. He knows his fingers are shaking, but he ignores it. This is it, this is the end. Chris is talking now, begging him not to do it, begging him to put the gun down, but Zach doesn’t. He doesn’t want to.

If he can’t have Chris, Urban won’t get him either.

His fingers find the trigger easily, Chris takes a step forward, hands raised to try and get his attention, but Zach keeps his eyes on Karl’s face. The other is taking a step back now, retreats towards the wall, to where his bag sits on the counter, a bag that surely holds more weapons, he can’t have that.

Zach pulls the trigger.

 

 _Chris_

The gunshot sounds loud in the small room, even with the silencer on, and for a moment Chris can’t breathe. Next to him Karl jerks and hits the wall, a small smoking hole inches from his head. Zach ignores Chris’ curse, eyes on Karl, and his shaking fingers raise the gun again. His lover doesn’t smile, doesn’t move a muscle, and Zach’s expressionless face and dark empty eyes scare Chris, they terrify him.

“Don’t move.” Zach says, voice barely louder than a whisper, and Chris flinches at the sound of it. Karl raises his hands slowly, palms out, and swallows. Chris’ eyes wander between him and his lover, and his stomach twists. If he doesn’t do something fast, this will get really ugly.

“Zach, look at me, please baby, look at me! You really don’t want to do this, I know you! You couldn’t hurt a fly, you don’t want to kill him, please, baby, just put the gun down!”

Zach sneers, and Karl flinches when the barrel jerks through the air. Chris draws a sharp breath, but Zach doesn’t shoot, not yet.”

“Don’t call me that! You lost the right when you broke my fucking heart, Chris, and you don’t know shit about me! You kept secrets from me, you played me and lead me on, and he, he… maybe I can do it, maybe I want to do it! He deserves it, and you do too, _baby_!”

Oh God, no. No, please no. Chris suddenly realizes what has happened, what Zach must think, and his stomach turns. Zach’s eyes are burning now, he trembles with hurt and rage, and he blinks rapidly, lashes wet. Chris looks at him and feels himself start shaking, too, God, what has he done? He needs to fix this, fast, needs to fix them, tell Zach, make him understand.

Chris dares a step closer to Zach and raises his hands again, fingers stretched towards his lover. Zach doesn’t react, doesn’t even spare him a glance, and Chris inches closer and closer, until he can almost touch Zach. He doesn’t, but he reaches for him, hands stopping inches from his lover’s shoulder. Behind him Karl makes a soft noise, but Chris ignores it and focuses on Zach. This is between them, this is for Zach.

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, and Zach flinches almost imperceptibly. “sweetheart, please, just listen to me. I’m sorry, Zach, for everything. I’m sorry for not telling you about Karl, for dragging you into this whole mess, for causing this, for not being there to protect you. It’s all my fault, and I’m so sorry.”

Zach’s breath hitches, he doesn’t look at Chris, but he swallows and Chris feels a small flare of hope. “I shouldn’t have kept this secret from you, kept Karl from you, but I was scared. Not because I didn’t want to make you jealous or mad, well, that too, but because I… I was scared because I have already shared so much with you, I wanted to keep this part of my past for myself. Because what we have, you and I, is so deep, so real, so… overwhelming sometimes, and I was scared I’d lose myself. I know I was wrong, and a coward, and please forgive me.”

Chris looks at Zach, ignores Karl completely, and just looks at his lover. Zach’s face slowly turns towards him, the gun still pointing at Karl, but Chris doesn’t care. Zach is looking at him now, eyes on Chris’ face, and he feels relief surge in his stomach. He tries to project sincerity with his whole body, keeps his eyes focused on Zach and continues, voice soft and honest and pleading.

“I have done many things I’m not proud of, I’ve seen and survived so much horrible things, and I didn’t tell you and I’m sorry, but the memories hurt so much, there are so many bad things in my past, that are… Zach, I have done a lot of things I am not proud of, and I lived through some horrible experiences, but I didn’t tell you, because… because I guess I didn’t want you to know about them, I wanted you to think I’m strong and flawless, I didn’t want you to think I was weak or pathetic. I need to be strong for you, sweetheart, I need you do look up to me and think I’m the greatest, because if you don’t, then what am I? What am I without you, Zach? Without you to protect and keep safe and take care of you? Nothing, I am nothing, just a pathetic loser with a penchant to violence, I need a goal in life, I need a purpose, and that purpose is you.”

Chris blinks against sudden tears, and Zach twitches. He dares to let a hand rest on his lover’s nape, feels Zach’s rapid pulse thrum underneath his fingers and lowers his voice even more. “When I’m with you I feel safe, I feel like I am someone, like I mean something. Please, sweetheart, believe me. You are the only thing that matters to me in my life, no one comes even close to you, not even Karl. Yes, what I had with him was wonderful, but it’s over now, long gone. You are my presence now, Zach, and my future, you are my life. You own me, as I own you, and I love you with all my heart. Sweetheart, please believe me, I’m sorry for everything I did, for hurting you this way, please forgive me.”

Chris swallows heavily, a lump in his throat, and Zach looks at him, a soft exhale whispering from his lips. Chris steps closer, rests both hands on his lover’s cheeks and look deep into his eyes. “I love you Zach, I want no one else, just you, only you. There’s nothing that could keep me from you, I’ve killed for you, I’ll do it again, I’ll do everything you ask, if you just forgive me. Please, Zach, please. I love you, Zach, I love you.”


	9. Chapter 9

Chris stops talking and looks at his lover. Zach is quiet, too quiet, only gazes back at him with brows slightly furrowed and serious eyes and doesn’t say a word. Chris’ heart clenches and he feels his hands start to tremble slightly against Zach’s warm skin. He poured his heart out, laid open his fears and secrets, but was it enough? Will Zach accept his apologies, will he accept him? Or was it too little too late? Chris’ throat constricts and cold sweat breaks out on his back; he’s hyper aware of the icy droplets running down along his spine and still Zach is silent. Chris wants to close his eyes, wants to turn away and run, run as far as he can, run away, because…because if Zach doesn’t want him anymore, what else can he do but run? But he can’t move, can’t do anything but hope that his confession was enough, that Zach will forgive him, that somehow, anyhow, they’ll be okay. But Zach still doesn’t say a word, only looks at him from dark dark eyes and Chris is scared.

Then Zach drops the gun, it hits the floor with a sound that seems impossibly loud in the small room, and now his hands fly up and his arms wrap around Chris. And now they are hugging, are clutching at one another, and holding tight, and Chris’ knees buckle, his legs give out. He falls to his knees, bruises them on the hard floor, but he doesn’t even notice the pain because all he can feel is overwhelming joy and relief. He presses his forehead to Zach’s, his fingers clench tightly in Zach’s clothes, and they pull each other even closer. Chris shudders and sobs a breath, grabs Zach fiercely, holds on tight and never wants to let go.

And now they are kissing, wild and desperate, Chris sucks on Zach’s tongue and tastes blood and metal and Zach. He licks into every corner of that sweet cavern, bites at his lover’s soft lips and re-discovers the mouth he already knows so well, knows better than his own. Zach kisses back in equal fervor, grabs Chris’ neck in one hand to angle his head just so, seems to suck the very air from Chris’ lungs and licks and bites and sucks. His fingernails rake burning scratches into Chris’ neck and side, Chris’ hands are bruising his lover’s lips, it’s hot and wet and messy, it’s wild and desperate, it’s heaven.

Eventually air becomes an issue and they have to stop kissing, but they don’t let go, still hold onto each other. Their panting breaths mingle in the air between their faces and Zach’s lashes tickle Chris’ cheek. He wraps his arms tighter around his lover’s waist and shivers slightly. Zach opens his eyes and smiles at him, soft and warm and gentle, his dark eyes glowing and beautiful, and Chris smiles back, stomach bubbling with joy, and then Zach is grinning and Chris starts to laugh, so giddy and exhilarated, and Zach’s face is light and happy and Chris has to kiss him again, and again, soft pecks on lips and cheeks and nose and forehead, and Zach smiles and smiles.

“I thought I lost you,” says Chris, throat raw and voice scratched, “I thought I lost you forever.”

Zach squeezes him and kisses his lips. “You didn’t, Chris, you didn’t lose me. I’m right here, with you.”

Chris closes his eyes briefly and opens them again when Zach nudges him. “I love you, Zach. So much.” He delights in saying it, seeing Zach’s pleased smile and his glowing eyes, and he says it again and again, feeling giddy and relieved and in love.

Someone clears their throat softly and Chris turns around to look at Karl. He feels Zach tense slightly against him and tightens his grip on his lover, rubs his hands in small circles over Zach’s body in reassurance. He can’t fault Zach for still being wary and distrusting of Karl, after all that has happened, but he will be damned if he lets Karl – or himself – ever hurt his lover again. He hopes Zach knows this, and he presses Zach closer to himself to try and show him.

Karl watches them, a small sad smile on his face, and he doesn’t miss the way Chris positions himself slightly between him and Zach, subtly protective and possessive. Karl is still standing close to the wall, he looks stiff and awkward, as if he feels like he doesn’t belong here, with them. And he doesn’t, in a way, this here is Chris and Zach, there is no Chris and Karl anymore. But – it’s Karl, and Chris owes him. He’ll never forgive him for what he did to Zach, even if that was largely Chris’ own fault, but still he owes him. For all that has happened, for what Chris did to him, he owes him.

He looks at Zach, who watches him and Karl with a hint of suspicion and worry, and kisses him briefly before he stands up. He doesn’t let go of his lover, takes Zach’s hand and holds it firmly and ignores the way the other is glaring at Karl.

Karl straightens and pushes off the wall. He moves two steps towards them and Zach stiffens further. The tension doesn’t leave his frame when Karl stops and just stands there, hands at his sides and starts to speak.

“Zach, Chris … I think I owe you an apology. And an explanation.”

Karl talks in a calm and controlled voice, doesn’t look at them but stares at the floor instead. Chris settles on the bed behind his lover and pulls Zach back to rest between his legs. As Karl continues to speak Zach relaxes gradually until he’s leaning back against Chris’ chest, tangles their fingers and listens silently to what Karl has to say.

Karl talks about his flight, his hiding, he tells about his crimes and the murders. How he went after de Luca, about this first murder, where Karl’s hands were shaking too much to aim the gun properly, how the bullet only grazed de Luca’s shoulder but the other shots killed de Luca’s nephew and friends. Karl talks about how he went after the mobster’s family, murdered his cousins and brother and his friends, how he killed every single one of them that had something to do with his family’s murder. How he wanted him to feel the same pain he felt, take de Luca’s family because the mobster had taken his. Karl talks about de Luca escaping him again and again, hiding behind body guards and allies after that first attempt on his life, how de Luca sent hitman after hitman to find Karl, how he killed them all.

And then Karl tells about his family and what de Luca did to them, and here his voice lowers to a whisper and tears glint on his pale cheeks.

Zach draws a sharp breath when Karl talks about the murder; he sits up straight and clutches at Chris’ legs. His hand is shaking when Karl hands him the locket and he looks at the pictures inside it without making a noise while Karl finishes his tale. And then, when Karl looks at Zach and says he’s sorry, when he apologizes for what he did, Zach takes the offered hand and grasps it firmly. He and Karl look at each other, and then they share a nod and a smile that seems more like a grimace.

Then Zach turns around to look at Chris. His face is serious, brows furrowed and his lips are pressed together tightly. His eyes are wet and full of pain and anger, and he takes Chris’ hands and closes them around Karl’s locket.

“Chris, you can’t kill Karl, you hear me? You can’t let de Luca win, you can’t.”

Chris smiles at his lover. “I know. I won’t kill him.”

Zach nods once, satisfied. Then he turns back towards Karl who watches them. Zach looks at him, face serious, eyes glowing with suppressed anger and hate. “Kill him. Make him suffer. Make him _pay_.”

Zach bares his teeth and Karl raises an eyebrow at his expression. Chris smiles darkly at Karl’s surprise and his grin widens when Karl looks at him with an intrigued and impressed expression. Zach hides a vicious vengeful and bloodthirsty streak behind that deceptively meek exterior, a fact that constantly surprises people who see the leather-clad stripper persona don’t know what Zach has seen and done. Something that Chris has forgotten, too, and he vows to never again do that.

“I will.” Karl promises, and Zach nods again.

“Do it slowly.” He says, then hands Karl the locket back. He touches Karl’s hand for a moment and smiles at him sadly. “She’s beautiful. They all are.”

Karl looks down at the medallion in his palm and swallows. “Yes, they were.” Then he locks the necklace around his neck again and hides the locket inside his shirt. He clears his throat and looks at them. Zach settles back against Chris who puts his arms around his lover. “Now what?”

Zach frowns. “Yeah, there are some problems that need to be solved.” He takes Chris’ right hand in both of his and uses Chris’ fingers to count off points as he speaks.

“There’s the problem of Chris having taken that assignment to kill you, there’s the problem that Bruce and de Luca know he took it, oh, and there are probably several people who saw you and us at the club and here, then there’s the fact that Chris is damn good at his job. So, simply telling de Luca that Karl got away is out of the question, plus it would ruin Chris’ reputation. This means Karl needs to disappear, and quickly. He needs to hide someplace safe, where no one will look for him. And later, when de Luca feels safe, he can go after him again and catch him unawares. Oh, and we need to fake your death.”

Karl stares at Zach with his mouth hanging open slightly and Chris chuckles and presses a kiss to his lover’s temple. That’s his Zach.

Karl swallows and raises an eyebrow. “I think I see who’s the brain in this relationship.”

Chris gives a mock-offended “hey!” and Karl chuckles. Suddenly the mood in the room in much lighter. Zach smiles, pleased with himself, and pinches Chris’ waist. Karl laughs at Chris’ indignant squeak and Zach dodges Chris’ retaliation-slap with a grin.

Then Chris falls serious again and looks at Zach and Karl. “Okay, then, brain… what’s the plan?”

 

\-----

 

Faking Karl’s death is ridiculously easy. The ex-cop isn’t squeamish about cutting himself and spilling his blood on the bed and the floor of the motel room – he even gets a bit artistic and puts a bloody handprint onto the wall. He and Zach, who can draw from an ex-lover’s experience, who was a forensic he met at Lady Heather’s, work together pretty well to turn the room into a convincing crime scene. Chris watches and laughs at their banter and their arguments about the proper way blood would be spilled if someone was shot from this or that direction. Other than that he does the grunt work, upends the table and has some fun in destroying the furniture.

Karl may have been okay with hurting himself to fake his death, but he grumbles and bitches a lot when Zach tells him they have to roll him into the carpet and put him in the trunk. Zach stares him into submission though, and after Chris has unscrewed his silencer and fired a couple of shots exactly where Zach told him he should aim, they carry the “body” out to the parking lot and dump Karl in the trunk. The door of a nearby room opens silently and Chris grins to himself. Now they got a witness, too – this seems to go perfectly. He doesn’t worry about being recognized, it’s dark enough, and even if he is, Bruce will take care of the investigation. As long as he and de Luca believe that Karl is dead, they are okay.

Chris opens the passenger door for Zach and soon they are speeding away. A couple of miles from the motel, on the dark and empty parking lot of a toy store, they let Karl out of the trunk and he settles in the back seat. He’s silent for a while, only snickers when Chris and Zach banter about which radio station they should listen to. Zach puts his feet onto the dashboard and leans against Chris, he puts an arm around his lover and drives one-handed.

Eventually Karl speaks up. “Where are we going anyway? Now that I’m dead… I need to hide. Unfortunately I don’t think there’s anybody left that de Luca doesn’t know or hasn’t killed already, so I kinda don’t know where to go.”

“Don’t worry Karl, we’ll take care of it. I know the perfect place.” Zach smiles and Chris chuckles. He thinks he knows what his lover is up to and Zach’s right – nobody would even think about looking for him there.

Karl seems unconvinced. “Oh yeah? What is that, some kind of remote hut in the mountains? A tree house in the forest?”

“No, much better.” Zach grins and twists around to look at Karl. “Tell me, how do you feel about gay porn?”


	10. Chapter 10

“It’s not exactly inconspicuous, is it?” Karl mumbles and eyes the huge steel and glass building of Joe’s company. He’s right, the building stands out quite a lot, with the huge sign that says “ _Quintolicious – filling every desire_ ” and the phallus-shaped bushes, but no one could ever imagine that Karl would hide here.

Chris can’t answer and try to reassure him because Zach is currently trying to suck on his tonsils. His lover gets very excited every time they visit Joe, and who can fault him? After they have entered and the receptionist let them in with a warm “welcome back”, they walk from set to set looking for Joe, and the dungeon scene and the gangbang one set over, the moans and the slapping sound of flesh against flesh leave Chris achingly hard himself.

Finally they see Joe, busy directing a scene involving a spaceship captain bent over the altar and getting fucked by some “alien” priest, and Zach hollers “Joe!” very loudly, earning several glares from nearby technicians because he ruined the take. They don’t dare to say anything, though, because Joe rushes over to them and wraps his little brother in a long-limbed embrace.

“Zach! Didn’t expect to see you here today! How’s it going, kiddo?”

Zach hugs him back and mumbles something that Chris can’t hear, then he steps back and motions him and Karl closer. “That’s Karl, he’s a friend.”

Joe turns and looks at Karl curiously before his look falls on Chris. His eyes narrow, and a second later Chris is lying on the floor, looking up to the ceiling, blinking in surprise and holding his aching jaw. Joe is standing above him, glaring, his hands twitch slightly, as if he’d like nothing better than to hurt Chris again.

“Pine,” he says and his voice is dark and furious, “I heard some really ugly shit about you and my brother. Care to explain or should I just kill you and be done with it?”

Chris gets up slowly and eyes Joe. Behind Zach’s brother a small crowd gathers, most of them only watching curiously, surprised at their director’s outburst and waiting for more violence, but the spaceship “captain” and the “priest” inch closer with balled fists, and he recognizes Hotspur and Hammer, both friends of Joe’s and violently protective of Zach themselves. Karl stiffens next to him and Chris swallows nervously, this could get ugly very fast.

Zach pulls his resisting brother over to the side and starts explaining. Chris can’t really understand what he’s saying, but Joe’s stiff posture relaxes gradually and soon he’s listening attentively to what Zach tells with wide sweeping gestures and an insisting face. Eventually he nods and hugs Zach briefly, before he returns to where Chris, Karl, Hotspur and Hammer are sizing each other up. He eyes the four of them for a moment, then he orders the crew to take 20 and jerks his head in the direction of the stairs that lead to the living quarters. Zach smiles reassuringly at Chris and takes his hand as they walk off, Karl follows and looks around curiously.

They enter the huge open space that serves as living room to the round dozen of people that are living here apart from Joe, and Zach’s older brother shoos two boys off that are sleeping one of the couches before he sits down in the spot they vacated. Chris settles opposite him and Zach in his lap, he wraps his arms around his lover demonstratively and pulls Zach back to rest against him. Karl hesitates for a moment, then sits next to Chris.

Joe watches Chris, eyes still slightly narrowed, until Zach huffs a breath. “Let it go, Joe, I told you it’s all good. It was only a misunderstanding, everything’s fine between Chris and me.”

Joe doesn’t seem to be convinced, but he shifts and nods. “Whatever you say, little brother. But if he hurts you again, I’ll kill him.”

He looks at Chris as he talks, and he can see that Joe’s dead serious. Zach’s older brother has always been protective of Zach, but ever since Zach about a year ago finally told him what Winters did to him, even more so. There was this one time when one of the club’s patrons wouldn’t accept that Zach doesn’t sleep with the guys he dances for. Chris missed the fun, because he was on an assignment in New Zealand, but he’d read the police report about the murder with much interest and satisfaction. Joe is vicious if someone threatens his baby brother. Chris accepts that, and he likes it. Zach deserves to be protected, and everybody that tries to hurt him deserves to suffer.

Chris nods at Joe, to show that he gets it while Zach grumbles and complains that he can take care of himself. Joe grins suddenly and teases him, and soon they are bickering and bantering like ever. Karl watches them, apparently slightly confused by the sudden mood change, and Chris nudges his shoulder and smiles.

Joe notices and sobers. “I guess you didn’t come here because you wanted to shoot another private video, did you.”

Zach shakes his head and straightens. “Joe, we need your help.”

 

\------

 

Chris investigates the room Karl will stay in while Joe explains the house rules to Karl and shows him where kitchen is. He marvels at the expensive furniture and tasteful decorations – and although he knows how much Joe makes with his movies, he’s again impressed by the sheer luxury and yes, decadence of the living quarters. And shouldn’t that picture over there hang in the Louvre? Damn.

Zach has gone off to greet some friends and catch up with Hotspur and Hammer, and after Joe has sent one of his assistants to get some additional clothes for Karl, he goes looking for his brother. Chris doesn’t mind, not really, he knows Joe wants to know more about what happened and deserves an explanation.

This leaves him alone with Karl, who opens the door to the bathroom adjoining his room and lets out a low, impressed whistle. Chris flops down onto the couch and watches him. The ex-cop wanders around the room and eyes that painting and the dark red velvet curtains, then runs a hand throw his hair and finally settles opposite Chris. They look at each other and chuckle.

“So… gay porn, hm? I hope I don’t have to participate myself to earn my stay here, I’m not really into alien rituals.”

Chris laughs and shakes his head. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to. If you want to, that’s a different matter – I’m sure Joe wouldn’t mind a new, er, face. Maybe a good cop/bad cop interrogation scene with double penetration or something…”

Karl snickers. “I bet he wouldn’t. I think I’ll stay out of that, though. Been having a little too much excitement in my life recently.”

Chris eyes him and nods, pensively. “True. But here you can relax for a while, Joe’s people know to keep their mouths shut, and nobody would think about looking for you here. You’re safe.”

“Yeah.” Karl touches a hand to the spot of his shirt where the locket rests. “I guess so.” He looks at Chris, serious and honest. “Thank you, Chris. For everything.”

Chris tilts his head. “No problem.”

They are silent for a few moments, then Karl speaks again. “I was wrong about Zach, you know. I thought he was only… I didn’t… I didn’t realize how much he means to you, and you to him. And I hurt him, and you. I’m very sorry for that, and I’m… I’m glad you two have each other. That you have someone who loves you and is there for you. That you’re happy.”

Chris nods slowly. “I am happy. And thanks. He’s… I think there always will be a part inside me that loves you, but Zach… he’s everything to me. But I’m glad you approve.”

“I do. I like him. I’m glad you found him, and although we… I couldn’t… I’m glad you found him.” Karl averts his eyes and sighs. Chris watches him, eyes Karl’s hand that still rests on the locket.

“You’ll find someone too, Karl,” he says quietly, “Someday you will be happy again, I promise.”

Karl snorts a laugh. “I won’t be happy for a long time.” He unclenched his fingers from the locket and rests them deliberately on the armrest of the couch. “But I will be, yeah… someday. When all of this is over.”

Zach’s voice sounds from outside the room, telling Chris to get his ass in gear, they have places to be, and Chris chuckles and gets up. Karl does the same and they awkwardly stand opposite each other before Karl sighs exasperatedly and yanks him closer. Chris finds himself surrounded by Karl’s strong arms and he buries into the familiar warmth and hugs the other back. Karl squeezes him tight for several long moments, his voice sounds rough in Chris’ ear. “Take care of you, kid.”

Chris pulls back and looks at him. “You too, Karl. We’ll come and visit you soon. In the meantime… be careful, okay?”

“I will.” Karl hugs him close again briefly before he lets go and shoves Chris playfully in the direction of the door. “Now go, shoo, go to your man. I bet he’s anxious to get you home. Bye Chris, and tell him I said thanks.”

Chris smiles at him and nods. “I’ll do that, Karl. See you soon. I’ll let you know if there are any news.”

He throws a last look over his shoulder at Karl, who stands there in the middle of Joe’s guest room, one hand on the locket and watches him with a half-sad smile on his face. They nod at each other once, and then Chris turns and walks along the hallway. Zach is waiting for him.


	11. Chapter 11

Zach is quiet on the way home. He stares out of the car’s window, face thoughtful. Chris looks over at him and bites his lips, still slightly nervous. It’s probably gonna be a long time until the guilt and the insecurity leaves him, but when Zach notices him watching, he takes Chris’ hand and folds his own around it with a smile. Zach’s fingers feel warm and reassuring against his own, and Chris smiles and drives them home.

When they arrive at Zach’s house, Chris parks the car in the driveway and sits in the driver’s seat for a moment before he releases a sigh and follows Zach through the door. They stand in the living room and stare at each other, both a bit hesitant and insecure, before Zach smiles, takes Chris’ hand and leads him into the bedroom.

Chris undresses Zach slowly and carefully, bares his lover’s skin to his eyes and lets his gaze roam the familiar body. He takes his own clothes off quickly and joins Zach on the bed, feels his arms wrap around him and touches his hands to warm skin softly. He presses Zach down into the mattress and stretches above him, covers his lover’s frame with his own. At first, he only looks at Zach, looks into Zach’s dark eyes and at that lush, smiling mouth, feasts on his lover’s expression of love and arousal and his heart sings.

Then they kiss. It’s slow at first, still slightly hesitant on Chris’ part, but Zach opens beneath him, lets him in, lets Chris devour his mouth, sucks on his tongue and bites at his lips. Chris is soon kissing him hard, their tongues dueling fiercely, and Zach rubs against him, their cocks slide together through the wetness of their precome. Chris shivers and presses down harder, grabs Zach’s face in both his hands and thrusts his tongue in and out of his mouth. Zach moans and wraps long legs around his waist, clutches at him and delights in the sigh he causes.

Chris rips his mouth away, drawing a disappointed noise from his lover that turns into a loud groan when Chris bites his chin. He lets his lips travel further downward, licks at Zach’s neck and sucks a hickey into the soft skin. Zach twists and shifts beneath him, arches his throat to give him better access, thrusts against him and moans. When Chris sucks on his nipples and tugs on the piercings he whimpers, and when he closes his teeth around the ring in his right one and pulls hard while his fingers pinch the other nipple, Zach screams.

Chris pulls back and looks at his lover, at Zach’s flushed face, with eyes with pupils blown wide, his heaving chest and his bruised, swollen lips, nipples and neck glistening with saliva, and Zach moans when Chris takes his hands and moves them over his head to grip the headboard.

“Hold on, don’t let go,” he murmurs, and Zach nods and swallows, closes his fingers around the iron bars and holds on tight. Chris slithers down his lover’s body, licks along his chest and tugs at the soft dark curls, lets his tongue follow the slim trail leading downwards from Zach’s navel. He ignores Zach’s dick which strains up and towards him, heavy and red, only teases his tongue over his lover’s balls for a moment before he pulls back again. Zach’s legs splay open and Chris uses his hands to spread them even wider.

He bends his head down again and mouths Zach’s balls briefly before he lets his tongue travel behind them, licks a broad swipe across his perineum. Zach shudders, breath coming in short little gasps, and when Chris swirls his tongue around Zach’s hole he moans brokenly.

“C-Chris!”

He chuckles, the vibrations against his sensitive skin making Zach twitch, then he closes his mouth over Zach’s entrance and sucks hard. Zach yells and trashes; Chris shoves his hips down with both hands and does it again. Zach shifts and tries to arch up, but Chris holds him tight and sucks, twirls the tip of his tongue over the puckered skin and lets his teeth rake over the edges of Zach’s hole. Zach is moaning constantly now, interrupted by a gasp or a hoarse shout when Chris nips him especially hard, and when Chris shoves his tongue into his lover’s sweet hole he whimpers. Chris thrusts his tongue in and out of Zach’s channel, saliva is coating his chin, his dick is drooling precome over the sheets, but he doesn’t care, relishes in Zach’s whimpers and moans, in the body twitching beneath him, in the heady musk of his lover. He shoves his tongue up and in as far as he can get, pressing it against the hot walls of Zach’s channel, thrusts against his prostrate again and again.

He fucks his lover with his tongue, shoves it into him until Zach is a twitching, incoherent mess, until his legs tremble constantly and he whimpers with every breath. Only then, only when Chris’ jaw is aching and his tongue sore, he pulls back, wipes his chin and surveys his lover. Zach’s eyes are closed tightly, his mouth moves but no sound emerges apart from his heavy, whimpering breaths. Chris smiles and bites at Zach’s thigh, causing a jerk and a groan, and then he lines his cock up and presses into his lover’s slick channel. Zach arches and shoves down against him, and Chris yanks his legs up and over his shoulders and buries himself to the hilt. Zach moans and lets go of the headboard, reaching for him, and Chris bends down and kisses him, thrusts his tongue into Zach’s mouth, his lover’s hands clutching at him, burning his skin.

But he doesn’t move his hips, not yet, waits until Zach opens his eyes and looks at him, pulls at his hips impatiently and begs him to move, please Chris, please fuck me, come on, fuck me, and only then does he start to move, slowly at first. Zach moves back against him, opens up so sweetly, his hot channel gripping Chris’ cock tightly, and he slides in and out, kisses Zach deeply and lifts his lover’s hips to get a better angle. Zach gasps when Chris rubs over his prostrate, moans into his mouth, and Chris pulls back again until only the tip of his cock is still inside Zach, ignores the desperate groan and tells him:

“Don’t come, Zach, don’t come.”

Zach thrashes his head but doesn’t argue, bites his lips until Chris replaces his mouth with his own, worries his lover’s lips with his own teeth until he tastes blood. Then he starts thrusting faster, harder, and soon he fucks into Zach, rams his dick into him over and over, shoves in hard and pulls out again, nails his prostrate with every thrust, makes him whimper and moan and scream. Zach presses down, shoves back against him in counterpoint to Chris’ movements, Chris sinks his teeth into his lover’s shoulder and shudders and fucks him. Zach’s nails bite into his sides and his back, Chris feels teeth in his own shoulder, feels a sudden warm wetness in his mouth and trickling down his shoulder, and Zach licks and sucks at his blood, Chris does the same, and then he’s coming, he’s coming, floods his lover with his seed, shoves in as deep as he can get, cock jerking and spurting, and Zach screams and clutches at him.

Chris stills, panting harshly, Zach moves and twists beneath him, dick still hard and straining, and Chris has only a few seconds to catch his breath before Zach gets impatient.

“Chris, Chris, please let me come, please, I need to come, please baby, please…”

Chris pulls out, wincing slightly at the loss of warm and tight, holds his lover’s shifting hips down and shoves two fingers up Zach’s slick hole. He moves them around quickly, coating his fingers with his own semen, ignoring Zach’s disappointed groan when he pulls them out again, ignores the clutching hands and the pleas while he stretches himself roughly. Zach doesn’t notice, doesn’t realize what he’s up to until Chris rolls them over and pulls Zach to lie above him. Only then does he figure it out, stares at Chris in surprise and wonder, before arousal and lust overtake his expression. And when Chris murmurs “Take me, Zach” in a soft voice, he doesn’t hesitate, lines up and presses in.

Chris winces through the pain, he didn’t prep himself nearly enough for this, but he wants it to hurt, wants to feel it. Zach shudders and moans as he buries himself, and Chris makes a face and pants as his body stretches slowly to accommodate his lover’s girth. It’s been a very long time since he last bottomed, but Zach is patient and gentle, waits until Chris has adapted and only then does he start to move.

Chris can’t get hard again so soon, but it doesn’t matter, this is for Zach, and the pleasure on his lover’s face is enough for him. Zach fucks him slowly and deeply, moves in him slowly and carefully, and only when Chris wraps his legs around his waist does he dare to go faster. But still he’s so careful, looks down at Chris with shining eyes and an open mouth, and they kiss again, deep and sensual. And when Zach finally comes, it’s with a sigh and a shudder, he slumps over Chris as wetness floods his channel, kisses him and mumbles into his mouth:

“I love you.”

Afterwards they lie there, in their bed, limbs tangled with each other’s, sticky and wet and sated, and Chris scratches a hand through his lover’s dark hair and kisses his temple.

“Love you too” he says, and Zach smiles and kisses him. Chris wraps his arms around his lover and looks up at the ceiling. Zach is a familiar warmth against him and Chris sighs. Yesterday he almost lost him, and now that he has him again, here with him, in his arms where he belongs, he never wants to let go.

Everything else can wait, Karl and Bruce and de Luca, John and Anton can wait, his next assignment and their lives can wait, right here and now he has what he needs, he’s happy. He feels Zach shift and hears him mumble sleepily, and Chris smiles at the feel of his lover against him. Yeah, he’s happy.

 

THE END (for now)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of my Mirror!AU, at least for now. I do have some ideas left for this verse, I'm just not sure when I'm gonna write them down...  
> To all my readers: thank you for joining me on this ride, I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had writing it!!


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